issi^^^ ^^■t Digitized by'tiie Internet Arciiive in 2009 witii funding from Ontario Council of .University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/1884scottsladyoflake00scot ',.y<^^ SCOTT AND HIS TKRIOD. 3 in concord with nature. Soon follow the poets of the early years of the present century — a galaxy only equalled by those of the beginning of the seventeenth. This great period of poetry was caused by many combined forces acting on the social world at the close of the last century, some of which were the following : — 1st. The natural weariness following the excess of artistic productions. People became tired of the artificial form and forced sentiment of these foreign imitations and turned to the early native poetry. 2d. The awakened interest in this old poetry in its various forms tended greatly towards ockhart admits that before the crash came he had invested ^^29,000 in the purchase of land alone. Another wild SCOTT AND His I'ERIOD. u 5;f)ecuiation was his partnership with the Ballantyncs, to estab- lish a large publishing house. But neither the Ballantynes nor Scott had the judgment for such an undertaking ; the new firm incurred, many unnecessary expenses, published all sorts of books which did not sell, and the result was failure and mutual recriminations. Scott's greatest fame rests on his novels, generally known as the Waverley Novels. These were produced with marvellous rapidity; from Waverley (1814) to Woodstock (1826), aperiod of twelve years, he published nineteen novels, a feat unequalled since the days of Shakespeare. A discussion of the merits of these novels would be interesting, but would be foreign to the object of these notes. When the great crash came he found himself saddled with a debt of ;^ 1 1 7,000, and set himself resolutely to work to lorite it off. On the 17th Jan., 1826, the announcement was made, and on the 19th he resumed the composition of Woodstock, and com- pleted " about twenty printed pages." Adversity to him was " a tonic and bracer,'' but part of this dogged resolution was the result of pride, for the heaviest blow was the blow to his great pride. Throughout life he only valued his literary pro- ductions because they brought him the means of building up, not a reputation, but a family mansion; he aimed at founding a family, a new house of Scotts. He was the possessor, and wanted to be thonght so, of many of those heroic qualities of chivalry he knew so well how to describe ; he wished to be un preux chci'alicr sans petir et sans tachc, and this will probably account for his dread of pity, which so often showed itself in his life. Be this as it may, he struggled on, and by January. 1828, he had e anedfor his creditors nearly ;^4G,ooo, and would have paid the whole debt off if hie health had continued. His lAfe of Napoleon Boiaparte, the work of two years, sold for ;^ 18,000. His last works were Castle Dangerous and Count Robert of Paris, and an unpublished novel written at Naples, The Siege of Malta. A year's absence in Italy failed to restore his health, and returning home he died at Abbotafurd, Sept. 21, CRITICISM. The student will notice that in the notes the more important passages are criticised. For farther information of this nature the following extracts are reprinted. I. A condensation of Lord Jeffrey's article in the Edinburgh Review (Aug., iSio). After considerable space devoted to the discussion of the difference between the qitaiiiy and the qnantity of popularity, and of the actual and the popular merit cf a work of fine art, more especially of a poem, he proceeds : — " The beautiful but minute delineations of such admirable observers as Crabbe or Co\sper are apt to appear tedious to those who take little interest in their subjects, and have no concern about their art ; — and the refined, deep and sustained pathetic of Campbell is still more apt to be mistaken for monot- ony and languor by those who are either devoid of sensibility or impatient of quiet reflection. The most popular style, undoubtedly, is that which has great variety and brilliancy, rather than exquisite finish in its images and descriptions, and which touches lightly on many passions, without raising any so high as to transcend the comprehension of ordinary mortals, or dwelling on it so long as to exhaust their patience. "That Mr. Scott has actually made use of all our recipes for popularity, we think very evident. Confident in the force and originality of his own genius, he has not been afraid to avail himself of the commonplaces, both of diction and of sentiment, whenever they appeared to be beautiful or impres- sive ; he has made use of that great treasury of characters, images and ex- pressions, which have been accumulated by the most celebrated of his prede- cessors. The great secret of his popularity, however, and the leading char- acteristic of his poetry, appear to us to consist evidently in this: that he has made more use of common topics, images and expressions than any original poet of later times ; and, at the same time, displayed more genius and origiri- alitv than any recent author who has worked in the same materials. '^In the choice of his subjects, for example, he does not attempt to interest merely by fine observation or pathetic sentiment, but takes the assistance of a story, and enlists the reader's curiosity among his motives for attention. Then his characters are all selected from the most common dramatis per sonce of poetry: kings, warriors, knights, outlaws, nuns, minstrels, secluded dam- sels, wizards, and true lovers. He never ventures to carrj' us into the cottage of the modern peasant, like Crabbe or Cowper ; nor into the bosom of domes- tic privacy, like Campbell ; nor among creatures of the imagination, like Southey or Dar\\in. Such personages, we readily admit, are not in them- selves so interesting or striking as those to whom Mr. Scott has devoted him- self, but they are far less familiar in poetry, and are, therefore, more likely, perhaps, to engage the attention of those to whom poetry is familiar. In the management of his passions, again, Mr. Scott appears to us to have pursued the same popular and comparatively easy course. He has raised all the most familiar and poetical emotioas by the most obvious aggravations. He has daz/.led the reader with the splendour, and even warmed him with the (•«) ^ CRITICISM. transient heat of various affections, but he has nowhere fairly kindled him with enthusiasm or melted him into tenderness. With regard to diction and imagery, too, it is quite obvious that Mr. Scott lias not aimed at writing either in a very pure or a very consistent style. He seems to have been anxious only to strike, and to be easily and universally understood ; and, for this purpose, to have culled the most glittering and con- spicuous expressions of the most popular authors, and to have interwoven them in splendid confusion with his own nervous diction and irregular versifi- cation. Indifferent whether he coins or borrows, and drawing with equal freedom on his memory and his imagination, he goes boldly forward, in full reliance on a never-failing abundance. There is nothing in Mr. Scott of the severe and majestic style of Milton, or of the terse and fine composition of Pope, or of the elaborate elegance and melody of Campbell, or even of the flowing and redundant diction of Southey. But there is a medley of bright images and glowing words, set carelessly and loosely together — a diction, tinged successively with the care- less richness of Shakespeare, and the harshness and antique simplicity of the old romances, the homeliness of vulgar ballads and anecdotes, and the senti- mental glitter of the most modern poetry, passing from the borders of the ludicrous to those of the sublime — alternately minute and energetic — some- times artificial and frequently negligent, but always full of spirit and vivacity, and never expressing a sentiment which it can cost the most ordinary reader any exertion to comprehend. There is nothing cold, creeping, or feeble in all his poetry; no laborious littleness or puling classical affectation. There is certainly no living poet wliose works seem to come from him with so much ease. Among his minor peculiarities we might notice his singular talent for de- scription, and especially for the description of scenes abounding in motion or action of any kind. In this department, indeed, we conceive him to be almost without a rival, either among modern or ancient poets ; and the character and Process of his descriptions are as extraordinary as their effect is astonishing, le places before the eyes of his readers a more distinct and complete picture, perhaps, than any other artist ever presented by mere words ; and yet he does not (like Crabbe) enumerate all the visible parts of the subjects with any degree of minuteness, nor confine himself, by any means, to what is visible. The singular merit of his delineations, on the contrary, consists in this, that, with a few bold and abrupt strokes, he finishes a most spirited outline, and then instantly kindles it by the sudden light and colour of some moral affec- tion. There are none of his fine descriptions, accordingly, which do not derive a great part of their clearness and picturesque effect, as well as their interest, from the quantity of character and moral expression which is thus blended with their details. Another very striking peculiarity in Mr, Scott's poetry is the air of free- dom and nature which he has contrived to impart to most of his distinguished characters, and with which no poet more modern than Shakespeare has ven- tured to rejjresent personages of such dignity. This work is more polished in its diction and more regular in its versifica- tion [than the "Lay" or " Marmion "] ; the story is constructed with infi- nitely more skill and address ; there is a greater proportion of pleasing and tender passages, with much less of antiquarian detail ; and, upon the whole, a larger variety of characters more artfully and judiciously contrasted. There s nothing so fine, perhaps, as the battle in Marmion, or so picturesque as some of the scattered sketches in the " Lay" ; but there is a richness and a opirit in the whole piece which does not pervade either of those poems — a pro- fusion of incident and a shifting brilliancy of colouring that reminds us of the witchery of Ariosto. The story, upon the whole, is well digested and happily carried on. It has the fault, indeed, of all stories that turn upon an anaffuorisis or recognition, —that th'j curiosity, which is excited during the first reading, is extinguished forever when we arrive at the discovery j but we must say for Mr. Scott, that CRITICISM. 15 his secret is very discreetly kept, and most felicitously revealed. If we were to scrutinize the fable with malicious severity we might also remark that Malcolm Gramme has too insignificant a part assigned to him, considering the favor in which he is held both by Ellen and the author ; and that in bringing out the shaded and imperfect character of Roderick Dhu as a contrast to the purer virtue of his rival, Mr. Scott seems to have fallen into the common error of making him more interesting than him whose virtues he was intended to set off, and converted the villain of the piece in some measure into its hero. There are several improbabilities, too, in the stor>'. Allowing that the King of Scotland might have twice disappeared for several days, without exciting any alarm in his court, it is certainly rather extraordinary that neither the Lady Margaret nor old Allan-bane should have recogiiized his person, and, almost as wonderful, that he should have found any difficulty in discovering the family of his entertainers. There is something rather awkward, too, in the sort of blunder or misunderstanding which gives occasion to Sir Rod- erick's gathering, and ail its consequences ; nor can any machinery be con- ceived more clumsy for effecting the deliverance of a distressed hero than the introduction of a mad woman, who, without knowing or caring about the wanderer, warns him by a song. Though great pains have evidently been taken with Brian the Hermit, we think his whole character a failure and mere deformity, hurting the interest of the story by its improbability, and rather heavy and disagreeable than sublime or terrible in its details. The quarrel between Malcolm Grsenie and Roderick is also ungraceful and offensive. II. Scott was early a drinker at the fout..ain of German poetry, but his ro- bust and manly character of mind, however, and his strong nationalism, with the innate disposition of his mind to live in the past rather than in the future, saved him from the puerilities or the extravagances into which the imitation of German writers had led others. Having found the same qualities that charmed him in his foreign favourites in the popular ballad poetry, he soon gave himself up exclusively to the more congenial inspiration of that native minstrelsy. His poems are all lays or romances of chivalry, but infinitely finer than any that had before been written. With all their irregularity and carelessness, that element of life in all writing which comes of the excited feeling and earnest belief of the writer exists in greater strength in no poetry than in that of Scott, redeeming a thousand defects, and triumphing over all the reclamations of criticism. All cultivated and perfect enjoyment of poetry, or of any other of the fine arts, is partly emotional and partly critical; the enjoyment and appreciation are only perfect when these two qualities are blended. But most of the poetry that had been produced among us in modem times had arrived at affording chiefly, if not exclusively, a critical gratification. The Lay of the Last Minstrel surprised readers of all degrees with a long and elaborate poem, which carried them onward with an excite- ment of lieart as well as of head. The narrative form of the poems, no doubt, did much to produce this effect, giving to it, even without poetry, the interest and excitement of a novel ; but all readers felt also the charm of the verse, and the poetic glow u-ith which the work was all alive. Marmion carried the same feelings to a much higher pitch ; it is undoubtedly Scott's greatest poem, or the one, at any rate, in which the noblest passages are found ; though the more domestic attractions of the Lady of the Lake made it the most popular on its first appearance. Notwithstanding the previous appearance of Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, and some other writers, it was Scott who first in his day made poetry the rage, and with him properly commences the busy poetical produc- tion of the period. But what is still more worthy of note is, that Scott's poetry impressed its own character upon all the poetry that was produced amon^ us for many years after: it put an end to long works in verse of a didactic or merely reflective character) and directed the current of all writing i6 CRITICISM. of that '-cind into the form of narrative. If Scott's own genius, ir.deed, were to be described by any single epithet, it would be called a narrative genius. Hence, when he left off writing verse, he betook himself to the productions of fictions in prose ; and, in that freer form of composition, succeeded in achieving a second reputation still more brilliant than his first.— Craik. III. The secret of the success of Scott's poetry lay partly in his subjects, partly in his mode of treating them, and partly in his versification. He loves to sketch knighthood and chivalry, baronial castles, the camp, the court, the grove, with antique manners and institutions. To these he adds beautiful descriptions of natural scenery, and graphic delineations of passion and char- acter. His personages he takes sometimes from history, and sometimes from imagination ; tlie former idealized by fancy, and the latter made the more real by being associated with men and women already familiar to us on the page of history or in actual life. In the power of vivifying and harmo- nizing all his characters, Scott is second only to Shakespeare. For back- ground he has magnificent groupings of landscape and incident, which acquire additional charm from the power he gives them of exciting human sentiment and emotion. Previous sketches of chivalry and of antiquity were made in stilted and obsolete phraseology ; Scott's language is always forcible and transparent. His characters are all typical, rather than individual, and as such they excite universal sympathy. They are drawn, moreover, by broad and vigorous strokes : not by a delicate analysis of motives, or a curious ex- hibition of contending passion. His versification, moreover, is ever appropriate to his purpose ; it is based upon the eight-syllabled rhyming metre of the Trouveres, which was admir- ably adapted by its easy flow for narrative poems. — Angus. IV. Scott and Byron were in succession the most successful of all poets of the period, and owed their popularity mainly to characteristi».a which they had in common. They are distinctively poets of active life. They portray, in spirited narra- tive, idealized resemblances of the scenes of reality; events which arise out of the universal relations of society ; hopes and fears and wishes which are open to the consciousness of all mankind. Both of them have described some of their works as tales ; and it has been said of Scott, while it might with not less truth have been said of Byron, that his works are romances in verse. It is unquestionable, that they have neither the elevation nor the regularity be- longing to the highest kind of narrative poetry ; and the poems of Scott are in many points strikingly analogous to his own historical novels. But the model of both was something different from the regular epic: Scott's originals were the Romances of Chivalry, and after the extraordinary success of his attempts at embodying the chivalrous and national idea, noth- ing was more natural than that the example should be applied by Byron as well as by others, in the construction of narratives founded on a different kind of sentiments. In accounting for Scott's popularity, we must remember that he was the earliest adventurer in a region hitherto unknown ; and that on his first appear- ance he stood in the eye of the world at large quite unaccompanied. No note of preparation had been sounded, unless by Scott's own "minstrelsy," when in 1805 he broke in on the public with his series of poetical narratives. In these he appealed to national sympathies through ennobling historic recol- lections ; he painted the externals of scenery and manners with unrivalled picturesqueness ; he embellished with an infectious enthusiasm all that was generous and brave in the world of chivalry ; and he seldom forgot to dress out the antique in so much of modern trappings as might make it both intel- ligible and interesting.— Spalding. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, CANTO FIRST. HARP of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, Till envious ivy did around thee cling, Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep ? Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, Still must thy sweeter sounds thy silence keep, Nor bid a warrior si'i'iie, nor teach a maid to weep ? Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd. When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. At each according pause, was heard aloud Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed ; For still the burden of thy minstrelsy [less eye. Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's match- O wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand That ventures o'er thy magic maze to siray; O wake once more ! though scarce my skill command Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, The wizard note has not been touched in vain. Then silent be no more ' Enchantress, wake again. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto 1. L The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way. And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. IL As Chief, who hears his warder call, * To arms ! the foemen storm the wall,' The antlered monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high. Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky ; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuffed the tainted gale, A moment listened to the cry, That thickened as the chase drew nigh ; Then, as the headmost foes appeared. With one brave bound the copse he cleared, And, stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. IIL Yelled on the view the opening pack ; Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back: To many a mingled sound at once The awakened mountain gave response. A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, Clattered a hundred steeds along, Their peal the merry horns rung out, A hundred voices joined the shout; With hark and whoop and wild halloo, No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. CANTO 1.] THE CHASE. i^ Far from the tumult fled the roe, Close in her covert cowered the doe, The falcon, from her cairn on high, Cast on the route a wondering eye, Till far* beyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failing din Returned from cavern, cHff, and linn, And silence settled, wide and still, On the lone wood and mighty hill. IV. Less loud the sounds of silvan war Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, A giant made his den of old ; For ere that steep ascent was won. High in his pathway hung the sun, And many a gallant, staici^perforce, Was fain to breathe his falteiMiig horse, And of the trackers of the deer. Scarce half the lessening pack was near; So shrewdly on the mountain side, Had the bo'd burst their mettle tried. V. The noble stag was pausing now. Upon the mountain's southern brow, Where broad extended, far beneath. The varied realms of fair Menteith. With anxious eye he wandered o'er Mountain and meadow, moss and moor And pondered refuge from his toil. By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. But nearer was the copsewood gra}'. That waved and wept on Loch Achray, And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. Fresh vigour with the hope returned, With flying foot the heatJi he spurned, Held westward with unwearied race, And left behind the panting chase. 20 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [cantO i. VL 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swept the hunt through Cambus-more ; What reins were tightened in despair, When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith — For twice that day, from shore to shore, The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. Few were the stragglers, following far. That reached the lake of Vennachar; And when the Brigg of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode alone. VIL Alone, but with unbated zeal, That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; For jaded now, and spent with toil, Embossed with foam, and dark with soil. While every gasp with sobs he drew, The labouring stag strained full in view. Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, Unmatched for courage, breath, and speedy Fast on his flying traces came, And all but won that desperate game ; For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch. Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds stanch ; Nor nearer might the dogs attain, Nor farther might the quarry strain. Thus up the margin of the lake, Between the precipice and brake. O'er stock and rock their race they take. VIIL The Hunter marked that mountain liigh, The lone lake's western boundary. And deemed the stag must turn to bay. Where that huge rampart barred the way . Already glorying in the prize. Measured his antlers with his eyes ; For the death-wound and death-halloo. Mustered h;^, breath, his whinyard drtvv CANTO I.] THE CHASE. 21 But thundering as he came pfepafed, With ready arm and weapon bared, The wily quarry shunned the shock, And turned him from the opposing rock ; Then, dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken, In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook His solitary refuge took. There, while close couched, the thicket shed Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow pass amain, Chiding the rocks that yelled again. IX. Close on the hounds the Hunter came, To cheer them on the vanished game; But, stumbling in the rugged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse him with the spur and rein, For the good steed, his labours o'er. Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more Then, touched with pity and remorse, He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse : ' I little thought, when first thy rein I slacked upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! ' X. Then through the dell his horn resounds. From vain pursuit to call the hounds. Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, The sulky leaders of the chase ; Close to their master's side they pressed, With drooping tail and humbled crest ; But still the dingle's hollow throat Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. The owlets started from their dream. The eagles answered with their scream. 22 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [cakto I, Round and round the sounds were cast, Till echo seemed an answering blast : And on the hunter hied his way, To join some comrades of the day ; Yet often paused, so strange the road, So wondrous were the scenes it shewed. XL The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o'er the glen their level way; Each purple peak, each flinty spire. Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below, Where twined the path in shadow hid, Round m?ny a rocky pyramid. Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; Round many an insulated mass. The native bulwarks of the pass, Huge as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. The rocky summits, split and rent, Formed turret, dome, or battlement, Or seemed fantastically set With cupola or minaret, Wild crests as pagod ever decked. Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare. Nor lacked they many a banner fair; For, from their shivered brows displayed. Far o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with the dew drops sheen. The brier-rose fell in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. XIL Boon nature scattered, free and wild. Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. Here eglantine embalmed the air. Hawthorn and hazel mingled there *, CANTO I.] THE CHASE. 23 The primrose pale and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower ; Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride. Grouped their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain. With boughs that quaked at every breath, Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock; And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high. His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, Where glistening streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue : So wondrous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream. XIII. Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep A narrow inlet, still and deep, Affording scarce such breadth of brim. As served the wild duck's brood to swim. Lost for a space, through thickets veering, But broader when again appearing, Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; And farther as the hunter strayed, Still broader sweep its channels made. The shaggy mounds no longer stood, Emerging from entangled wood, But, wave-encircled, seemed to float. Like castle girdled with its moat ; Yet broader floods extending still Divide them from their parent hill, Till each, retiring, claims to be An islet in an inland sea. XIV. And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto i. Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom's tough roots his ladder made The hazel saplings lent their aid; And thus an airy point he won, Where, gleaming with the setting sun, One burnished sheet of living gold. Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled, In all her length far winding lay. With promontory, creek, and bay. And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the liveher light, And mountains, that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south, huge Benvenue Down on the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurley The fragments of an earlier world ; A wildering forest feathered o'er His ruined sides and summit hoar. While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. XV. From the steep promontory gazed The Stranger, raptured and amazed. And, ' What a scene were here,' he cried, * For princely pomp, or churchman's pride ! On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; In that soft vale, a lady's bower ; On yonder meadow, far away. The turrets of a cloister gray. How blithely might the bugle-horn Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn, How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute Chime, when the groves were still and mute I And, when the midnight moon should lave Her forehead in the silver wave, How solemn on the ear would come The holy matins' distant hum, While the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake in yonder islet lone, A sainted hermit from his cell, :anto I.] THE CHASE. 25 To drop a bead with every knell — And bugle, lute, and bell, and all. Should each bewildered stranger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall. XVI. * Blithe were it then to wander here>. But now, — beshrew yon nimble deer, — Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, The copse must give my evening fare ; Some mossy bank my couch must be, Some rustling oak my canopy. Yet pass we that ; the war and chase Give little choice of resting-place;— A summer night, in greenwood spent, Were but to-morrow's merriment: But hosts may in these wilds abound. Such as are better missed than found ; To meet with Highland plunderers here Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — I am alone ; — my bugle-strain May call some straggler of the train ; Or, fall the worst that may betide, Ere now this falchion has' been tried.' XVII. But scarce again his horn he wound, When lo ! forth starting at the sound. From underneath an aged oak. That slanted from the islet rock, A damsel guider of its way, A little skiff shot to the bay, That round the promontory steep Led its deep line in graceful sweep, Eddying, in almost viewless wave. The weeping willow twig to lave, And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, The beach of pebbles bright as snow. The boat had touched the silver strand, Just as the Hunter left his stand, And stood concealed amid the brake. To view this Lady of the Lake. 26 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto i The maiden paused, as if again She thought to catch the distant strain. With head up-raised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent. And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, In listening mood, she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand- XVIIL And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ' What though the sun, with ardent frown. Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown,- Tbe sportive toil, which, short and light, Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, Served too in hastier swell to shew Short glimpses of the breast of snow What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had trained her pace, — A foot more hght, a step more true. Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew ; E'en the slight harebell raised its head. Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her speech there hang The accents of the mountain tongue, — Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The list'ner held his breath to hear XIX. A Chieftain's daughter seemed the maid ; Her satin snood, her silken plaid. Her golden brooch such birth betrayed. And seldom was a snood amid Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, Whose glossy black to shame might bring The plumage of the raven's wing ; And seldom o'er a breast so fair. Mantled a plaid with modest care. And never brooch the folds combined Above a heart more good and kind. CANTO I.J THE CHASE 27 Her kindness and her worth to sp}', You nefed but gaze on Ellen's eye ; Not Katrine in her mirror blue, (}ives back the shaggy banks more true, Than every free-born glance confessed The guileless movements of her breast; Whether joy danced in her dark eye, Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, Or filial love was glowing there, Or meek devotion poured a prayer, Or tale of injury called forth 'i'he indignant spirit of the North. One only passion unrevealed, With maiden pride the maid concealed. Yet not less purely felt the flame; — O need I tell that passion's name ! XX. Impatient of the silent horn, Now on the gale her voice was borne : — ' Father ! ' she cried ; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. A while she paused, no answer came, — ' Malcolm, was thine the blast.? ' the name Less resolutely uttered fell. The echoes could not catch the swelL 'A stranger 1,' the Huntsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar, Pushed her light shallop from the shore, And when a space was gained between, Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; (So forth the startled swan would swing. So turn to prune his ruffled wing.) Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, She paused, and on the Stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor his the eye, That youthful maidens wont to fly. XXL On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 28 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto I. Yet had not quenched the open trutH And fiery vehemence of youth ; Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to dare, The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, Of hasty love, or headlong ire. His limos were cast in manly mould, For hardy sports or contest bold ; And though in peaceful garb arrayed, And weaponless, except his blade, His stately mien as well implied A high-born heart, a martial pride, As if a Baron's crest he wore, And sheathed in armour trod the shore. Slighting the petty need he shewed, He told of his benighted road; His ready speech flowed fair and free In phrase of greatest courtesy; Yet seemed that tone, and gesture bl?.nd, Less used to sue than to command. XXIL A while the maid the Stranger eyed, And, reassured, at length replied, That Highland halls were open still To wildered wanderers of the hill. /) • -M-* *Nor think you unexpected come (QJOCti.'C^trC-' To yon lone isle, our desert home ; n ^ / ^-f- Before ihe heatn had lost the dew This morn, a couch was pulled for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, And our broad nets have swept the mere To furnish forth your evening cheer.' — * Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, Your courtesy has erred,' he said ; ' No right have I to claim, misplaced. The welcome of expected guest. A wanderer, here by fortune tost. My way, my friends, my courser lost, I ne'er before, believe me, fair. Have ever drawn j ^ir mountain air, CANTO I.] THE CHASE. J9 Till on this lake's romantic strand, I found a fay in fairy land ! ' — XXIII. * I well believe,' the maid replied, As her light skiff approached the side,— * I well believe, that ne'er before Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore; But vet, as far as yesternight, ^ . yL_ Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — Tyt^'?^'U^(£vO-^^ A grav-haired sire, whose eye intent ^ / j i~yir/' Was on the visioned future bent. [JM4^i'^^'^^^--^ He saw your steed, a dappled gray, / Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; Painted exact your form and mien, Your hunting suit of Lincoln greer., That tasselled horn so gaily gilt, That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, That cap with heron plumage trim, And yon two hounds so dark and cn-im. He bade that all should ready be, To grace a guest of fair degree ; But light I held his prophecy. And deemed it was my father's horn. Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne.' — XXIV. The Stranger smiled : ' Since to your home A destined errant-knight I come, Announced by prophet sooth and old, Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, I '11 lightly front each high emprise, For one kind glance of those bright eyes. Permit me, first, the task to guide Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, The toil unwonted saw him try ; For seldom sure, if e'er before, His noble hand had grasped an oar. Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; With heads erect, and whimpering cry, The hounds behind their passage ply. 30 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto i. Nor frequent does the bright oar break The darkening mirror of the lake, Until the rocky isle they reach, And moor their shallop on the beach. XXV. The Stranger viewed the shore around; 'Twas all so close with copse wood bound, Nor track nor pathway might declare That human foot frequented there. Until the mountain-maiden shewed A clambering unsuspected road, That winded through the tangled screen, And opened on a narrow green, Where weeping birch and willow round With their long fibres swept the ground. Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, Some chief had framed a rustic bower. XXVL It was a lodge of ample size. But strange of structure and device ; Of such materials as around The workman's hand had readiest found. Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared. And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined height. The sturdy oak and ash unite ; While moss and clay and leaves combined To fence each crevice from the wind. The lighter pine-trees, overhead, Their slender length for rafters spread, And withered heath and rushes dry Supplied a russet canopy. Due westward, fronting to the green, A rural portico was seen. Aloft on native pillars borne, Of mountain fir with bark unshorn, Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine The ivy and Idaean vine. The clematis, the favoured flower, Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, CANTO I.] THE CHASE. 3^ And every hardy plant could bear Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. An instant in this porch she staid, And gaily to the Stranger said, ' On heaven and on thy lady call, And enter the enchanted hall ! ' — XXVII. * My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee ' — He crossed the threshold — and a clang Of angry steel that instant rang. To his bold brow his spirit rushed. But soon for vain alarm he blushed. When on the floor he saw displayed, Cause of the din, a naked blade Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; For all around, the walls to grace, Hung trophies of the fight or chase : A target there, a bugle here, A battle-axe, a hunting spear. And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, With the tusked trophies of the boar. Here grins the wolf as when he died, And there the wild-cat's brindled hide The frontlet of the elk adorns. Or mantles o'er the bison's herns ; Pennons and flags defaced and stained, That blackening streaks of blood retained, And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white. With otter's fur and seal's unite. In rude and uncouth tapestry all, To garnish forth the silvan hall. XXVIII. The wondering Stranger round him gazed. And next the fallen weapon raised : — Few were the arms whose sinewy strength Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. And as the brand he poised and swayed, * I never knew but one,' he said, 32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [canto i. 'Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field.' She sighed, then smiled and took the sword . ' You see the guardian champion's sword : As light it trembles in his hand, As in my grasp a hazel wand ; My sire's tall form might grace the pait Of Ferragus, or Ascabart ; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now, and menials old.' XXIX. The mistress of the mansion came, IVLature of age, a graceful dame ; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court, To whom, though more than kindred knew, Young Ellen gave a mother's due. Meet welcome to her guest she made. And every courteous rite was paid. That hospitality could claim, Though all unasked his birth and name. Such then the reverence to a guest, That fellest foe might join the feast, And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. At length his rank the Stranger names, *The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James Lord of a barren heritage. Which his brave sires, from age to age. By their good swords had held with toil; His sire had fall'n in such turmoil, And he, God w-ot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand. This morning with Lord Moray's train He chased a stalwart stag in vain, Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer. Lost his good steed, and wandered here.' XXX. Fain would the Knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire. CANTO I.] THE CHASE 33 Well shewed the elder lady's mien, That courts and cities she had seen; Ellen, though more her looks displayed The simple grace of sylvan maid, In speech and gesture, form and face, Shewed she was come of gentle race ; 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find Such looks, such manners, and such mind. Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, Dame Margaret heard with silence grave* Or Ellen, innocently gay. Turned all inquiry light away : — * Weird women we ! by dale and down We dwell, afar from tower and town. We stem the flood, we ride the blast, On wandering knights our spells we cast , While viewless minstrels touch the string, 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.' She sung, and still a harp unseen Filled up the symphony between. XXXI. SONG. 'Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking: Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall. Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall. Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er : Dream of fighting fields no more : Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking. Morn of toil, nor night of waking. *No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champmg, Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the day-break from the fallow, 34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto i And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.' XXXIL She paused — then, blushing, led the lay To grace the stranger of the day. Her mellow notes a while prolong The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came. SONG CONTINUED. ' Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, While our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen. How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun. For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveille. XXXIIL The hall was cleared — the Stranger's bed Was there of mountain heather spread, Where oft a hundred guests had lain. And dreamed their forest sports again. But vainly did the heath-flower shed Its moorland fragrance round his head; Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes ; His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his barge upon the lake; Canto i.] THE CHASE. 5^ Now leader of a broken host, His standard falls, his honour's lost. Then, — from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worst phantom of the night !— Again returned the scenes of youth, Of confident undoubting truth ; Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long estranged. They come, in dim procession led. The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday. And doubt distracts him at the view, O were his senses false or true ! Dreamed he of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a visioo now ! XXXIV. At length, with Ellen in a grove He seemed to walk, and speak of love ; She listened with a blush and sigh. His suit was warm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hand to clasp. And a cold gauntlet met his grasp: The phantom's sex was changed and gone^ Upon its head a helmet shone ; Slowly enlarged to giant size. With darkened cheek and threatening eycj^, The grisly visage, stern and hoar, To Ellen still a likeness bore. — He woke, and, panting with affright, Recalled the vision of the night. The hearth's decaying brands were red. And deep and dusky lustre shed, Half shewing, half concealing, all The uncouth trophies of the hall. Mid those the Stranger fixed his eye, Where that huge falchion hung on high, And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throns^; Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, Until, the giddy whirl to cure. He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 36 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [cA' Vj \, XXXV. The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom, Wasted around their rich perfume : The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm, The aspens slept beneath the calm ; The silver light, with quivering glance, Played on the water's still expanse, — Wild were the heart whose passions' sway Could rage beneath the sober ray ! He felt its calm, that warrioi guest. While thus he communed with his breast : * Why is it, at each turn I trace Som.e memory of that exiled race ? Can I not mountain-maiden spy, But she must bear the Douglas eye ? Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand ? Can I not frame a fevered dream, But still the Douglas is the theme ? I '11 dream no more — by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resigned, My midnight orisons said o'er, 1 '11 turn to rest, and dream no more. His midnight orisons he told, A prayer with every bead of gold. Consigned to heaven his cares and woct And sunk in undisturbed repose ; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, And morning dawned on Benvenuc. i THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO SECOND Clie 3slan&. I. AT morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day ; And while yon little bark glides down the bay, Wafting the Stranger on his way again, Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane 11. * Not faster yonder rowers' might Flings from their oars the spray, Not faster yonder rippling bright. That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away, Than men from memory erase The benetits of former days ; Then, Stranger, go ! good speed the while. Nor think again of the lonely isle. * High place to thee in royal court. High place in battle line, (37) A 38 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto a Good hawk and hound for silvan sport, Where beauty sees the brave resort, The honoured meed be thine ! True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, And lost in love with friendship's smile Be memory of the lonely isle. in. *But if beneath yon southern sky A plaided stranger roam, Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, And sunken cheek and heavy eye. Pine for his Highland home ; Then, warrior, then be thine to shew The care that soothes a wanderer's woe; Remember then thy hap erewhile, A stranger in the lonely isle. * Or if on life's uncertain main Mishap shall mar thy sail ; If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, Woe, want, and exile thou sustain Beneath the fickle gale ; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, On thankless courts, or friends estranged, But come where kindred worth shall smile, To greet thee in the lonely isle.' IV. As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reached the mainland side. And ere his onward way he took, The Stranger cast a lingering look, Where easily his eye might reach The Harper on the islet beach, Reclined against a blighted tree. As wasted, gray, and worn as he. To minstrel meditation given, His reverend brow was raised to hea/en, As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. CANTO ii.J THE ISLAND. 30 His hand, reclined upon the wire, Seemed watching the awakening fire; So still he sate, as those who wait Till judgment speak the doom of fate So still, as if no breeze might dare To lift one lock of hoary hair • So still, as life itself were fled, In the last sound his harp had sped. Upon a rock with lichens wild, Beside him Ellen sate and smiled.— Smiled she to see the stately drake Lead forth his "fleet upon the lake,' While her vexed spaniel, from the beach, Bayed at the prize beyond his reach ? Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, Why deepened on her cheek the rose ? — Forgive, forgive, Fidelity I Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, And stop and turn to wave anew ; And, lovely ladies, ere your ire Condemn the heroine of my lyre, Shew me the fair would scorn to spy, And prize such conquest of her eye ! VL While yet he loitered on the spot, It seemed as Ellen marked him not; But when he turned him to the glade, One courteous parting sign she made ; And after, oft the knight would say, That not when prize of festal day Was dealt him by the brightest fair, Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, So highly did his bosom swell. As at that simple mute farewell. Now with a trusty mountain-guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his side, He parts — the maid, unconscious still, Watched him wind tlowly round the hill j 40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [cAxN^^H. But when his stately form was hid, The guardian in her bosom chid — ' Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid : ' 'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said — * Not so had Malcolm idly hung On the smooth phrase of southern tongue Not so had Malcolm strained his eye. Another step than thine to spy. Wake, Allan-bane,' aloud she cried, To the old Minstrel by her side — * Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! I'll ^ive thy harp heroic theme. And warm thee with a noble name; Pour forth the glory of the Graeme ! ' Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, When deep the conscious maiden blushed For of his clan, in hall and bower, Young ALalcolm Graeme was held the flower. VIL The Minstrel waked his harp — three times Arose the well-known martial chimes, And thrice their high heroic pride In melancholy murmurs died. ' Vainly thou bidd'st, O noble maid,' Clasping his withered hands, he said — * Vainly thou bidd'st me wake the strain, Though all unwont to bid in vain. Alas ! than mine a mightier hand Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned ! I touch the chords of joy, but low And mournful answer notes of woe ; And the proud march, which victors tread, Sinks in the wailing for the dead. O well for me, if mine alone That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! If, as my tuneful fathers said. This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed, Can thus its master's fate foretell, Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! CANTO iT.j THE ISLAND. 4^ VIII. * But ah ! dear lady, thus it si'f^hcd The eve thy sainted mother died ; And such the sounds which, while I strove To wake a lay of war or love. Came marring all the festal mirth, Appalling me who gave them birth, And disobedient to m.y call, Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall, Ere Douglases, to ruin driven, Were exiled from their native heaven. — Oh ! if yet worse mishap and woe. My master's house must undergo, Or aught but weal to Ellen fair, Brood in these accents of despair, No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling Triumph or rapture from thy siring ; One short, one final strain shall flow. Fraught with unutterable woe. Then shivered shall thy fragments lie. Thy master cast him down and die ! ' IX. Soothing she answered him : ' Assuage, Mine honoured friend, the fears of age ; All melodies to thee are known, That harp has rung, or pipe has blown. In Lowland vale or Highland glen, From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, then At times, unbidden notes should rise, Confusedly bound in memory's ties, Entangling, as they rush along. The war-march with the funeral song .'*- — Small ground is now for boding fear ; Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. My sire, in native virtue great, Resigning lordship, lands, and state, Not then to fortune more resigned, Than yonder oak might give the wind; The graceful foliage storms may reave, ■ The noble stem they cannot grieve. 42 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto ii. For me ' — she stooped, and, looking round, Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground — ' For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more splendid days, This little flower, that loves the lea, May well my simple emblem be ; It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose That in the King's own garden grows; And when I place it in my hair, Allan, a bard is bound to swear He ne'er saw coronet so fair.' Then playfully the chaplet wild She wreathed in her dark locks, and smded. X. Her smile, her speech, with winning sway^ Wiled the old harper's mood away. With such a look as hermits throw, When angels stoop to soothe their woe, He gazed, till fond regret and pride Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : ' Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st The rank, the honours, thou hast lost ! O might I live to see thee grace, In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, To see my favourite's step advance, The lightest in the courtly dance, The cause of every gallant's sigh, And leading star of every eye, And theme of every minstrel's art, The Lady of the Bleeding Heart !' XL * Fair dreams are these,' the maiden cried (Light was her accent, yet she sighed), 'Yet is this mossy rock to me Worth splendid chair and canopy ; Nor would my footsteps spring more gay In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, Nor half so pleased mine ear incline To royal minstrel's lay as thine. And then for suitors proud and high, To bend before my conquering eye, CANTO II.] THE ISLAND. 43 Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt saj, That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, The terror of Loch Lomond's side, Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay A Lennox foray — for a day.' — XIL The ancient bard his glee repressed : * 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! For who, through all this western wild, Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ! In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; I saw, when back the dirk he drew, Courtiers give place before the stride Of the undaunted homicide ; And since, though outlawed, hath his hand Full sternly kept his mountain land. Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day, That I such hated truth should say — The Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disowned by every noble peer, Even the rude refuge we have here ? Alas, this wild marauding Chief Alone might hazard our relief, And now thy maiden charms expand Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; Full soon may dispensation sought. To back his suit, from Rome be brought. Then, though an exile on the hill. Thy father, as the Douglas, still Be held in reverence and fear ; And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear, That thou might'st guide with silken thread. Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! Thy hand is on a lion's mane.' — XIII. 'Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high Her father's soul glanced from her eye, ' My debts to Roderick's house I know : All that a mother could bestow. To Lady Margaret's care I owe, 44 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto n Since first an orphan in the wild She sorrowed o'er her sister's child To her brave chieftain son, from ire Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, A deeper, holier debt is owed ; And, could I pay it with my blood, Allan ! Sir Roderick should command My blood, my life — but not my hand. Rather with Ellen Douglas dwell A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; Rather through realms beyond the sea, Seeking the world's cold charity. Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, An outcast pilgrim will she rove. Than wed the man she cannot love. XIV. * Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray- That pleading look, what can it say But what 1 own ? — I grant him brave, But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; And generous — save vindictive mood, Or jealous transport, chafe his blood: I grant him true to friendly band, As his claymore is to his hand ; But O ! that very blade of steel No mercy for a foe would feel : I grant him liberal, to fling Among his clan the wealth they bring, When back by lake and glen they wind, And in the lowland leave behind, Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, A mass of ashes slaked with blood. The hand that for my father fought, I honor, as his daughter ought ; But can I clasp it reeking red. From peasants slaughtered in their shed ? No ! wildly while his virtues gleam. They make his passions darker seem, And flash along his spirit high. Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. KTO ii.J THE ISLAND. While yet a child — and children kno\V, Instinctive taught, the friend and foe — I shuddered at his brow of gloom, His shadowy plaid, and sable plume : A maiden grown, I ill could bear His haughty mien and lordly air : But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, In serious mood, to Roderick's name, I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er A Douglas knew the word, with fear. To change such odious theme were best — What think'st thou of our stranger guest ? ' — XV. < What think I of him ? -Woe the while That brought such wanderer to our isle ! Thy father's battle-brand, of yore For Tine-man forged by fairy lore, Wliat time he leagued, no longer foes, His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshew The footstep of a secret foe. If courtly spy hath harboured here, What may we for the Douglas fear ? What for this island, deemed of old Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold ? If neither spy nor foe, I pray What yet may jealous Roderick say ? — Nay, wave not thy disdainful head; Bethink thee of the discord dread. That kindled when at Beltane game Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud ; Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these? My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, Nor breath is dimpling in the lake. Still is the canna's hoary beard. Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — And hark again ! some pipe of war Sends the bold pibroch from afar,' 46 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [caMo U. XVL tar up the lengthened lake were spied Four darkening specks upon the tide, That, slow enlarging on the view, Four manned and masted barges grew, And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, Steered full upon the lonely isle ; The point of Brianchoil they passed, And, to the windward as they cast, Against the sun they gave to shine The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine» Nearer and nearer as they bear, Spear, pikes, and axes flash in air. Now might you see the tartans brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave j Now see the bonnets sink and rise, As his tough oar the rower plies ; See, flashing at each sturdy stroke. The wave ascending into smoke ; See the proud pipers on the bow, And mark the gaudy streamers flow From their loud chanters down, and sweep- The fuirowed bosom of the deep. As, rushing through the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain, XVIL Ever, as on they bore, more loud And louder rung the pibroch proud. At first the sound, by distance tame, Mellowed along the waters came, And, lingering long by cape and bay, Wiled every harsher note away; Then bursting bolder on the ear, The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear; Those thrilling sounds, that call the might Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. Thick beat the rapid notes, as when The mustering hundreds shake the glen, And hurrying at the signal dread, The battered earth returns their tread. CANTO II.] THE ISLAND. 47 Then prelude light, of livelier tone, Expressed their imuxy marching on, Ere peal of closing battle rose, With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; And mimic din of stroke and ward, As broadsword upon target jarred; And groaning pause, ere yet again Condensed tiie battle yelled amain, The rapid charge, the rallying shout, Retreat borne headlong into rout, And bursts of triumph, to declare Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, And changed the conquering clarion swell, For wild lament o'er those that fell. XVIII. The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill Were busy with their echoes still ; And, when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, While loud a hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. Each boatman, bending to his oar, With measured sweep the burden bore, In such wild cadence, as the breeze Makes through December's leafless trees. The chorus first could Allan know, ' Roderigh Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! ' And near, and nearer as they rowed. Distinct the martial dittv tiowed. XIX. BOAT SONG. Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! Honoured and blest be the ever-green Pine ! Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, 4S THE lADY of the lake. [cANlo lU Gaily '10 bourgeon, and broadly to grow, While every Highland glen Sends our shout back agen, • Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the moun tain, The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock. Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; Menteith and Breadalbane, then, Echo his praise agen, * Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' XX. Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied •. Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid. Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe ; Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear agen, •' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' How, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! O ! that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! O that some seedling gem, .VVorthy such nolle stem. Honoured and blessed in their shadow might gro^vl Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from the deepest glen, •*' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' XXL With all .ler joyful female band. Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. CANTO II.] THE ISLAND. Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, And high their snowy arms they threw, As echoing back with shrill acclaim, And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ; While prompt to please, with mother's artj The darling passion of his heart, The Dame called Ellen to the strand, To greet her kinsman ere he land : * Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? ' — Reluctantly and slow, the maid The unwelcome summoning obeyed, And, when a distant bugle rung, In the mid-path aside she sprung : * List, Allan-bane ! From mainland cast, I hear my father's signal blast. Be ours,' she cried, ' the skiff to guide, And waft him from the mountain-side.' Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. She darted to her shallop light. And, eagerly while Roderick scanned, For her dear form, his mother's band, The islet far behind her lay, And she had landed in the bay. XXII. Some feelings are to mortals given. With less of earth in them than heaven. And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek. It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head ! And as the Douglas to his breast His darling Ellen closely pressed, Such holy drops her tresses steeped, Though 'twas a hero's eye that weeped. Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue Her filial welcomes crowded hung, Marked she, that fear (affection's proof) Still held a graceful youth aloof ; 5^- THE LADY OF TUL LAKE, [canto ii. No ! not till Douglas named his name, Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. XXIIL Allan, with wistful look the while, Marked Roderick landing on the isle ; His master piteously he eyed, Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, Then dashed, with hasty hand, away From his dimmed eye the gathering spray ; And Douglas, as his hand he laid On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said : * Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy In my poor follower's glistening eye ? I '11 tell thee : he recalls the day, When in my praise he led the lay O'er the arched gate of Both well proud, While many a minstrel answered loud. When Percy's Norman pennon, won In bloody field, before me shone, And twice ten knights, the least a name As mighty as yon Chief may claim. Gracing my pomp, behind me came. Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshalled crowd. Though the waned crescent owned my might, And in mv train trooped lord and knight. Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays, And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, As when this old man's silent tear, And this poor maid's affection dear, A welcome give more kind and true, Than aught my better fortunes knew. Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, O ! it out-beggars all I lost ! ' XXIV. pelightful praise ! — like summer rose, That brighter in the dew-drop glows, The bashful maiden's cheek appeared. For Douglas spoke, and ^Lalcolm heard. TJie flush of shame-faced joy to hide, Ihe hounds, the hawk, her cares divide • CANTO II.] THE ISLAND. 5' The loved caresses of the maid 'The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ; And, at her whistle, on her hand The falcon took his favourite stand, Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. And, trust, while in such guise she stood, Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, That if a father's partial thought 'O'erweighed her worth, and beauty aught. Well might the lover'.s judgment fail To balance whh a juster scale ; For with each secret glance he stole, The fond enthusiast sent his soul. XXV. Of stature tall, and slender frame, But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. The belted plaid and tartan hose Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, Curled closely round his bonnet blue. Trained to the chase, his eagle eye The ptarmigan in snow could spy : Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, He knew, through Lennox and Menteith. Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe, When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, And scarce that doe, though winged with fear, Outstripped in speed the mountaineer: Right up Ben Lomond could he press, And not a sob his toil confess. His form accorded with a mind Lively and ardent, frank and kind; A blither heart, till Ellea came. Did never love nor sorrow tame ; It danced as lightsome in his breast, As played the feather on his crest. Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth, His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, And bards, who saw his features bol4. When kindled by the tales of old, 52 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto U. Said, were that youth to manhood grovfii, Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, But quail to that of Malcolm Grame. XXVI. Now back they wend their watery way, And, ' O my sire ! ' did Ellen say, ♦ Why urge thy chase so far astray ? And why so late returned ? And why ' The rest was in her speaking eye. * My child, the chase I follow far, 'Tis mimicry of noble war ; And with that gallant pastime reft. Were all of Douglas I have left. I met young Malcolm as I strayed Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade, Nor strayed I safe ; for, all around, Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground This youth, though still a royal ward, Risked life and land to be my guard, And through the passes of the wood Guided my steps, not unpursued ; And Roderick shall his welcome make, Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, Nor peril aught for me agen.' XXVIL Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme, Yet, not in action, word, or eye, Failed aught in hospitality. In talk and sport they whiled away The morning of that summer day ; But at high noon a courier light Held secret parley with the knight, Whose moody aspect soon declared, That evil were the news he heard. Deep thought seemed toiling in his head Yet was tlie evening banquet made. CAmo II.] THE ISLAND. 53 Ere he assembled round the flame. His mother, Douglas, and the Grc-eme, And Ellen, too ; then cast around His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, As studying phrase that might avail Best to convey unpleasant tale. Long with his dagger's hilt he played, Then raised his haughty brow and said XXVIIL * Short be my speech ; nor time affords, Nor my plain temper, glozing words. Kinsman and father — if such name DouM;las vouchsafe to Roderick's claim; Mine honoured mother: Ellen — why, My cousin, turn away thine eye ? — And Graeme ; in whom I hope to know Full soon a noble friend or foe, When age shall give thee thy command, And leading in thy native land — List all : — the King's vindictive pride Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came To share their monarch's silvan game, Themselves in bloody toils were snared; And when the banquet they prepared, And wide their loyal portals flung. O'er their own gateway struggling hung. Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, And from the silver Teviot's side ; The dales, where martial clans did ride, Arc now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. This tyrant of the Scottish throne, So faithless, and so ruthless known, Now hither comes ; his end the same, TiiC same pretext of silvan game. What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye, By fate of Border chivalry. Yet more ; amid Glenfinlas green, Douglas, thy stately form was seen, 54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [canto n This by espial sure I know ; Your counsel in the streight I shew. ' XXIX. Ellen and Margaret fearfully Sought comfort in each other's eye, Then turned their ghastly look, each one, This to her sire, that to her son. The hasty colour went and came In the bold cheek of Malcom Graeme ; But from his glance it well appeared, 'Twas but for Ellen that he feared ; While, sorrowful, but undismayed. The Douglas thus his counsel said : * Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, It may but thunder and pass o'er ; Nor will I here remain an hour. To draw the lightning on thy bower ; For well thou know'st, at this gray head The royal bolt were fiercest sped. For thee, who, at thy king's command, Canst aid him with a gallant band, Submission, homage, humbled pride. Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, Ellen and I will seek, apart. The refuge of some forest cell, There, like the hunted quarry, dwell. Till on the mountain and the moor. The stern pursuit be passed and o'er.' — XXX. * No, by mine honour,' Roderick said, * So help me. Heaven, and my good blade I No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine, My father's ancient crest and mine, If from its shade in danger part The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid To wife, thy counsel to mine aid; CANTO II.] THE ISLAND. S5 To Douglas, leagued witli Roderick Dhu, Will friends and allies flock enow ; Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, Will bind to us each Western Chief. When the loud pipes my bridal tell, The links of Forth shall hear the knell, The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; And, when I light the nuptial torch, A thousand villages in flames, Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! — Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away; And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; I meant not all my heart might say. — Small need of inroad, or of fight. When the sage Douglas may unite Each mountain clan in friendly band. To guard the passes of their land, Till the foiled king, from pathless glen, Shall bootless turn him home agen.' XXXL There are who have, at midnight hour, In slumber scaled a dizzy tov.e", And, on the verge that beetled o'er The ocean tide's incessant roar. Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream. Till wakened by the morning beam ; When, dazzled by the eastern glow. Such startler cast his glance below, And saw unmeasured depth around, And heard unintermitted sound, And thought the battled fence so frail, It waved like cobweb in the gale ; Amid his senses' giddy wheel, Did he not desperate impulse feel. Headlong to plunge himself below. And meet the worst his fears foreshew? — Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound. As sudden ruin yawned around. By crossing terrors wildly tossed. Still for the Douglas fearing most, Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, To buy his safety with her hand."^ 56 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [canto n. XXXII. . Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, And eager rose to speak — but ere His tongue could hurry forth his fear, Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, Where death seemed combating with life; For to her cheek, in feverish flood, One instant rushed the throbbing blood, Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, Left its domain as wan as clay. * Roderick, enough ! enough ! ' he cried ; < My daughter cannot be thy bride ; Not that the blush to wooer dear. Nor paleness that of maiden fear. It may not be — forgive her. Chief, Nor hazard aught for our relief. Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er Will level a rebellious spear. 'Twas I that taught his youthful hand To rein a steed and wield a brand ; I see him yet, the princely boy ! Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; I love him still, despite my wrongs, By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues. O'seek the grace you well may find, Without a cause to mine combined.' XXXIII. Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode : The waving of his tartans broad. And darkened brow, where wounded pride With ire and disappointment vied, Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, Like the ill Demon of the night. Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway Upon the nighted pilgrim's way : But, unrequited Love ! thy dart Blunged deepest its envenomed smart. And Roderick, with thine anguish stung; At length the liand of Douglas wrung. Canto II. J THE ISLAND. 57 While eyes, that mocked at tears before, With bitter drops were running o'er. The death-pangs of long-cherished hope Scarce in that ample breast had scope, But, struggling with his spirit proud, Convulsive heaved its chequered shroud. While every sob — so mute were all — Was heard distinctly through the hall. The son's despair, the motlier's look, 111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; She rose, and to her side there came. To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. XXXIV. Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — As flashes flame through sable smoke, Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, So deep the anguish of despair Burst, in fierce jealousy to air. With stalwart grasp his hand he laid On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : ' Back, beardless boy ! " he sternly said ; ' Back, minion ! hold'st thou thus at nought The lesson I so lately taught ? This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delayed.' Eager as greyhound on his game, P'iercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. * Perish my name, if aught afford Its Chieftain safety save his sword ! ' Thus as they strove, their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been — but Douglas rose. And tiirust between the struggling foes His giant strength : ' Chieftains, forego! I hold the first who strikes, my foe. — . Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! ' What ! is the Douglas fallen so far, His daughter's hand is doomed the spoil Of such dishonourable broil ! ' 5S THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto il. Suliei\ and slowly, they unclasp, As stluck with shame, their desperate grasp, And each upon his rival glared. With foot advanced, and blade half bared, XXXV. Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, As faltered through terrific dream. Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, And veiled his wrath in scornful word. * Rest safe till morning; pity 'twere Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! Then mayest thou to James Stuart tell, Roderick will keep the lake and fell, Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan, The pageant pomp of earthly man. - More would he of Clan-Alpine know. Thou canst our strength and passes shew. — Malise, what ho ! ' — his henchman came ; * Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.' Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold: * Fear nothing for thy favourite hold ; The spot an angel deigned to grace, Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. Thy churlish courtesy for those Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. As safe to me the mountain way At midnight as in blaze of day, Though with his boldest at his back, Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — Brave Douglas — lovely Ellen — nay, Nought here of parting will I say. Earth does not hold a lonesome glen, So secret, but we meet agen. — Chieftain! we too shall find an hour '— He said, and left the silvan bower. XXXVL Old Allan followed to the strand ^Such was the Douglas's command), CANTO II.] THE ISLAND. ^(^ And anxious told, how, on the r.'< The stern Sir Roderick deep ha ..orn, (The EicJ:^-CrQss should circle o i I Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor; Much were the peril to the Gramme, From those who to the signal came ; Far up the lake 'twere safest land, Himself would row him to the strand; He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind< Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled; His ample plaid in tightened fold, And stripped his limbs to such array, As best might suit the watery way— xxxvn. Then spoke abrupt : ' Fai ewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelity ! ' The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed— ' O ! could I point a place of rest ! My sovereign holds in ward my land, My uncle leads my vassal band ; To tame his foes, his friends to aid. Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. Yet, if there be one faithful Grasme, Who loves the Chieftain of his name, Not long shall honoured Douglas dwell, Like hunted stag in mountain cell ; Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare — I may not give the rest to air ! Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought, Not the poor service of a boat, To waft me to yon mountain side.' Then plunged he in the flashing tide ; Bold o'er the flood his head he bore. And stoutly steered him from the shore ; And Allan strained his anxious eye. Far 'mid the lake his form to spy. Darkening across each puny wave. To which the moon her silver gave, Fast as the cormorant could skim, The swimmer plied each active limb ; 6o THE LADY UF THE LAKE, [canto ii Then landing in the moonlight dell, Loud shouted of his weal to tell. The Minstrel heard the far halloo, And joyful from the shore withdrew. THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO THIRD. ^\\z (Sathering. rpiME rolls'his ceaseless course. Tlie race of yore, J- Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store. Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be ! How few, all weak and withered of their force, Wait on the verge of dark eternity. Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his ceaseless course. Yet live there still who can remember well. How when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell. And Solitary heath, the signal knew ; And fast the faithful clan around him drew. What time the warning note was keenly wound, AVhat time aloft their kindred banner flew. While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. II. Tlie summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy ; 6S (^(^ THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto hi. The mountain shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest ; Jn bright uncertainty they lie, Like future joys to Fancy's eye. The water-hly to the hght Her chalice reared of silver bright ; The doe awoke, and to the lawn. Begemmed with dewdrops, led her fawn; The gray mist left the mountain side, The torrent shewed its glistening pride ; Invisible in flecked sky, The lark sent down her revelry ; The blackbird and the speckled thrush Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; In answer cooed the cushat dove Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. III. No thought of peace, no thought of rest, Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. With sheathed broadsword in his hand. Abrupt he paced the islet strand, And eyed the rising sun. and laid His hand on his impatient blade. Beneath a rock, his vassals' care Was prompt the ritual to prepare, With deep and deathful meaning fraught; For such Antiquity had taught Was preface meet, ere yet abroad The Cross of Fire sliould take its road. The shrinking band stood oft aghast At the impatient glance he cast ; — Such glance the mountain eagle threw. As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, She spread her dark sails on the wind, — And, high in middle heaven reclined, With her broad shadow on the lake, Silenced the warblers of the brake. IV. A heap of withered boughs was piled, Of juniper and rowan wild, CANTO III.] THE GATHERING. 5; Mingled with shivers from the oak, Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. Brian, the Hermit, by it stood. Barefooted, in his frock and hood. His grisled beard and matted hair Obscured a visage of despair ; His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, The scars of frantic penance bore. That monk, of savage form and face. The impending danger of his race Had drawn from deepest solitude, Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. Not his the mien of Christian priest, But Druid's, from the grave released. Whose hardened heart and eye might brook On human sacrifice to look; And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. The hallowed creed gave only worse And deadlier emphasis of curse ; No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, His cave the pilgrim shunned with care, The eager huntsman knew his bound, And in mid chase called off his hound ; Or if, in lonely glen or strath, The desert-dweller met his path, He prayed, and signed the cross between, While terror took devotion's mien. Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. His mother watched a midnight fold. Built deep within a dreary glen. Where scattered lay the bones of men, In some forgotten battle slain. And bleached by drifting wind and rain. It might have tamed a warrior's heart, To view such mockery of his art! The knot-grass fettered there the hand Which once could burst an iron band ; Beneath the broad and ample bone, That bucklered heait to fear unknown, 68 THE LADY OF THfc LAKE, [canto in. A feeble and a timorous guest, The field-fare framed her lowly nest; There the slow blind-worm left his slime On the fleet limbs that mocked at time : And there, too, lay the leader's skull, Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full, For heath-bell, with her purple bloom, Supplied the bonnet and the plume. All night, in this sad glen, the maid Sate, shrouded in her mantle's shade : — She said, no shepherd sought her side, No hunter's hand her snood untied, Yet ne'er again to braid her hair The virgin snood did Alice wear ; Gone was her maiden glee and sport, Her maiden girdle all too short. Nor sought she, from that fatal nigh.t. Or holy church or blessed rite. But locked her secret in her breast. And died in travail, unconfessed. VL Alone, among his young compeers. Was Brian from his infant years ; A moody and heart-broken boy. Estranged from sympathy and joy. Bearing each taunt which careless tongue Or his mysterious lineage flung. Whole nights he spent by moonlight paie, To wood and stream his hap to wail. Till, frantic, he as truth received What of his birth the crowd believed. And sought, in mist and meteor fire. To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, The cloister oped her pitying gate ; In vain, the learning of the age Unclasped the sable-lettered page ; Even in its treasures he could find Food for the fever of his mind. Eager he read whatever tells Of magic, cabala, and spells, CANTO III.] THE GATHERING. 69 And everj' dark pursuit allied To curious and presumptuous pride ; Till witii fired brain and nerves o'erstrung, And heart with mystic horrors wrung, Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, And hid him from the haunts of men. VII. The desert gave him visions wild, Such as might suit the Spectre's child- Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, He watched the wheeling eddies boil, Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes Beheld the river Demon rise ; The mountain mist took form and limb, Of noontide hag, or goblin grim ; The midnight wind came wild and dread, Swelled with the voices of the dead; Far on the future battle-heath His eye beheld the ranks of death : Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, Shaped forth a disembodied world. One lingering sympathy of mind Still bound him to the mortal kind ; The only parent he could claim Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. Late had he heard, in prophet's dream. The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast, Of charging steeds, careering fast, Along Benharrow's shingly side. Where mortal horsemen ne'er might ride; The thunderbolt had split the pine — All augured ill to Alpine's line. He girt his loins, and came to shew The signals of impending woe, And now stood prompt to bless or ban, As bade the chieftain of his clan. VIII. 'Twas all prepared ; and from the rock, A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 70 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto in Before the kindling pile was laid, And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. Patient the sickening victim eyed The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, Down his clogged beard and shaggy lirnh, Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, A slender crosslet formed with care, A cubit's length in measure due : The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, Whose parents in Inch-Callliach wave Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's gra\ e, And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. The Cross, thus formed, he held on high. With wasted hand, and haggard eye, And strange and mingled feelings woke, While his anathema he spoke. IX. 'Woe to the clansman, who shall view This symbol of sepulchral yew, Forgetful that its branches grew Where weep the heavens their holiest dew On Alpine's dwelling low ! Deserter of his Chieftain's trust. He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, But, from his sires and kindred thrust, Each clansman's execration just Shall doom him wrath and woe.' He paused ; the word the vassals took, With forward step and fiery look. On high their naked brands they shook, Their clattering targets wildly strook ; And first in murmur low. Then, like the billow in his course, That far to seaward finds his source. And flings to shore his mustered force, Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, ' Woe to the traitor, woe ! ' Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, The joyous wolf from covert diew. CANTO III.] THE GATHERIxNG. The exulting eagle screamed afar — They knew the voice of Alpine's war. X. The shout was hushed on lake and fell, The monk resumed his muttered spell : Dismal and low its accents came, The while he scathed the Cross with flame, And the few words that reached the air, Although the holiest name was there, Had more of blasphemy than prayer. But when he shook above the croud Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : • Woe to the wretch, who fails to rear At this dread sign the ready spear! For, as the flames this symbol sear, His home, the refuge of his fear, A kindred fate shall know : Far o'er its roof the volumed flame Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, While maids and matrons on his name Shall call down wretchedness and shame, And infamy and woe.' Then rose the cry of females, shrill As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill, Denouncing misery and ill, Mingled with childhood's babbling trill Of curses stammered slow; Answering, with imprecation dread, ' Sunk be his home in embers red ! And cursed be the meanest shed That e'er shall hide the houseless head We doom to want and woe ! ' A sharp and shrieking echo gave, Coir-Uriskin, thy Goblin-cave ! And the gray pass where birches wave, On Beala-nam-bo. XI. Then deeper paused the priest anew. And hard his labouring breath he drew, While with set teeth and clenched hand, And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, 72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto m. He meditated curse more dread, And deadlier, on the clansman's heaa, Who, summoned to his Chieftain's aid, The signal saw and disobeyed. The crosslet's points of sparkling wood. He quenched among the bubbling blood, And, as again the sign he reared, Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard: ' When flits this Cross from man to man, Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! May ravens tear the careless eyes, Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth ! As dies in hissing gore the spark. Quench thou his light, Destruction dark ! And be the grace to him denied. Bought by this sign to all beside ! ' He ceased ; no echo gave agen The murmur of the deep Arnen. XIL Then Roderick, with impatient look, From Brian's Jiand the symbol took: * Speed, Malise, speed ! ' he said, and gave The crosslet to his henchman brave. * The muster-place be Lanrick mead — Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed I Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, A barge across Loch Katrine flew ; High stood the henchmen on the prow ; So rapidly the bargemen row, The bubbles, where they launched their bo:.t, Were all unbroken and afloat, Dandng in foam and ripple still, AVhen it had neared the mainland hill ; And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow three fathom wide, When lightly bounded to the land The messenger of blood and brand. CA^TO lii.J THE GATHERING. )2> XIII. Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide On fleeter foot was never tied. Speed, Malise. s^x^ed ! such cause of haste Thine active sinews never braced. Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, T>urst down like torrent from its crest ; "With short and springing footstep pass The trembling bog and false morass ; Across the brook like roebuck bound, And thread the brake like questing hound ; The crag is high, the scaur is deep, Vet shrink not from the desperate leap ; Parched are thy burning lips and brow, Yet by the fountain pause not now ; Herald of battle, fate, and fear. Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! The wounded hind thou track'st not now, Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough,, Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace, With rivals in the mountain race ; But danger, death, and warrior deed, Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed ! XIV. Fast as the fatal symbol flies, In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; From winding glen, from upland brown. They poured each hardy tenant down. Nor slacked the messenger his pace ; He shewed tlie sign, he named the place. And, pressing forward like the wind, • Left clamour and surprise behind. The fisherman forsook the strand. The swarthy smith took dirk and brand j With changed cheer, the mower blithe Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe ; The herds without a keeper strayed, The plough was in mid-furrow staid. The falc'ner tossed his hawk away, The hunter left the stag at bay; Prompt at the signal of alarms, Lach son of Alpine rushed to arni^i 74 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto ill. So swept the tumult and affray Along the margin of Achray. Alas> thou lovely lake ! that e'er Thy banks should echo sounds of fear The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep So stilly on thy bosom deep. The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud, Seems for the scene too gaily loud. XV. Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, Duncraggan's huts appear at last. And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, Half hidden in the copse so green ; There mayst thou rest, thy labour done, Their lord shall speed the signal on. — As stoops the hawk upon his prey. The henchman shot him down the way. — What woeful accents load the gale .'' The funeral yell, the female wail ! A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, A valiant warrior fights no more. Who, in the battle or the chase, At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — W^ithin the hall, where torches' ray Supplies the excluded beams of day. Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, And o'er him streams his widow's tear. His stripling son stands mournful by. His youngest weeps, but knows not why ; The village maids and matrons round The dismal coronach resound. XVI. CORONACH. He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing. From the rain-drops shall borrow But to us comes no cheering^ To Duncan no morrow .' CANTO III.] THE GATHERING. IS The liand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, Eiit the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest. But our flower was in flushing. When bluihtinor was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumBer, Red hand in the foraj', How sound is tliy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain. Thou art gone and for ever ! XVII See Stumah, who, the bier beside, -- (^i^^^^" His master's corpse with wonder eyed, ^' Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo Could send like lightning o'er the dew, Bristles his crest, and points his ears, As if some stranger step he hears. *Tis not a mourner's muffled tread. Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, But headlong haste, or deadly fear, Urge the precipitate career. All stand aghast : unheeding all. The henchman bursts into the hall ; Before the dead man's bier he stood ; Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood ; ' The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed ! XVIII. Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied: But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony, 76 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto iil. Back to her opened arms he flew, Pressed on her lips a fond adieu — ' Alas ! ' she sobbed — ' and yet be gone, And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!' One look he cast upon the bier, Dashed from his eye the gathering tear. Breathed deep to clear his labouring breast, And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, •-^ Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed. He vanished, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. ^ ^ Suspended was the widow's tear, »o ^ ^ While yet his footsteps she could hear ; -> And when she marked the henchman's eye, -g ^ Wet with unwonted sympathy. , 4 • Kinsman,' she said,!' his race is run,l ">j That should have sped thine errand on ; ^ -0 The o^]< H;^s fallpn— the sanlinp- bouyh ^ ^^ Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. >^ Yet trust I well, his duty done, \^ The orphan's God will guard my son. — ■ And you, in many a danger true, At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! Let babes and women wail the dead.' Then weapon-clang, and martial call, Resounded through the funeral hall. While from the walls the attendant band -^V 4 u .^ ^ '^ Snatched sword and targe, with hurried hand ^ ^ J ' And short and flittino- pnercrv "S. ;r^ ' And short and flitting energy Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, vj ^ As if the sounds to warrior dear ^^ Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. ^ But faded soon that borrowed force ; Grief claimed his right, and tears their course. XIX. Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. u "r O'er dale and hill the summons flew, <.i Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew; The tear that gathered in his eye. He left the mountain-breeze to dry; CANTO w.] THE GATHERING. 77 Until, where Teith's young waters roll, Betwixt him and a wooded knoll, That graced the sable strath with green. The chapel of Saint Bride was seen, Swoln was the stream, remote the br'c;je, But Angus paused not on the edge ; Though the dark waves danced dizzily, Though reeled his sympathetic eye, He dashed amid the torrent's roar : His right hand high the crosslet bore. His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide And stay his footing in the tide. He stumbled twice — the foam splashed high, With hoarser swell the stream raced by, And had he fallen — ^^for ever there Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! But still, as if in parting life. Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, Until the omosino; bank he gained, And up the cTiapel pathway strained. XX. A blithesome rout, that morning tide, Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. Her troth Tombea's Mary gave To Norman, heir of Armandave, And, issuing from the Gotiiic arch. The bridal now resumed their march. In rude, but glad procession, came Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, Which snooded maiden would not hear : And children, that, unwitting why, Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; And minstrels, that in measures vied Before the young and bonny bride, Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose The tear and blush of morning rose. With virgin step and bashful hand. She held the 'kerchief's snowy band ; The gallant bridegroom, by her side, Beheld his prize with victor's pride. And the glad mother in her ear Was closely whisj^ering word of cheer. 78 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto hi. XXL Who meets them at the churchyard gate ? The messenger of fear and fate ! Haste in his hurried accent lies, And grief is swimming in his eyes. All dripping from the recent flood, Panting and travel soiled he stood, The fatal sign of fire and sword Held forth, and spoke the appointed word 'The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed !' And must he change so soon the hand, Just linked to his by holy band, For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? And must the day, so blithe that rose, And promised rapture in the close, Before its setting hour, divide The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, Her summons dread, brook no delay ; Stretch to the race — away ! away ! XXIL Yet slow he laid his plaid aside, And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride, Until he saw the starting tear Speak woe he might not stop to cheer; Then, trusting not a second look, In haste he sped him up the brook, Nor backward glanced, till on the heath Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — What in the racer's bosom stirred.'' The sickening pang of hope deferred, And memory, with a torturing train Of all his morning visions vain. Mingled with love's impatience, came The manly thirst for martial fame ; The stormy joy of mountaineers. Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning, And hopC; from well-fought field returning, CANTO III.] THE GATHERING. 79 With war's red honours on his crest, To clasp his Mary to his breast. Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, Like fire from flint he glanced away, (^'vL y^u^/itC' While high resolve, with feeling strong, y JrCAMO Burst into voluntar}^ song. yM^(yy%^(^:l^rU- /<»-r XXIII. SONG. The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken curtain for my head, I^Iy lullaby the warder's tread. Far, far, from love and thee, Mary ; To-rr.orrow-eve, more stilly laid. My couch may be my bloody plaid. My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! It will not waken me, Mary ! I may not, dare not, fancy now. The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, I dare not think upon thy vow. And all it promised me, Mary. No fond regret must Norman know ; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, His heart must be like bended bow, His foot like arrow free, Mary. A time will come with feeling fraught, For, if I fall in battle fraught, Thy hapless lover's dying thought Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. And if returned from conquered foes, How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose. To my young bride and' me, Mary! XXIV. Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaz^i, Rushing, in conflagration strong, Thy deep ravines and dells along, Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, And reddening the dark lakes below ; Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto iri. The signal roused to martial coil, The sullen margin of Loch Voil, Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source, Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; Thence southward turned its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, Till rose in arms each man might claim A portion in Clan Alpine's name, From the gray sire, whose trembling hand Could hardly buckle on his brand. To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow Were yet scarce terror to the crow. Each valley, each sequestered glen, Mustered its little horde' of men. That met as torrents from the height In Highland dales their streams unite. Still gathering, as they pour along, A voice more loud, a tide more strong, Till at the rendezvous they stood By hundreds, prompt for blows and blood ; Each trained to arms since life began. Owning no tie but \o his clan. No oath, but by his chieftain's hand, No law, but Roderick Dhu's command XXV. That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, To view the frontiers of Menteith. All backward came with news of truce ; Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, In Rednock courts no horsemen wait. No banner waved on Cardross gate, On Uuchray's towers no beacon shone, Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; All seemed at peace. — Now, wot ye why The Chieftain, with such anxious eye. Ere to the muster he repair, This western frontier scanned with care ? In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, A fair, though cruel, pledge was left ; For Douglas, to his promise true, That morning from the isle withdrew, CANTO III.] THE GATHERING. ^1 And in a deep sequestered dell Had sought a low and lonely cell. By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ; A softer name the Saxons gave, And called the grot the Goblin-cave. XXVI. It was a wild and strange retreat, As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast: Its trench had staid full many a rock, Hurled by primeval earthquake shock From Benvenue's gray summit wild. And here, in random ruin piled. They frowned incumbent o'er the spot, And formed the rugged silvan grot. The oak and birch, with mangled shade. At noontide there a twilight made, Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, With such a glimpse as ])rophet's eye Gains on thy depth, Futurity. No murmur waked the solemn still, Save tinkling of a fountain rill; But when the wind chafed with the lake, A sullen sound would upward break, With dashing hollow voice, that spoke The incessant war of wave and rock. Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway. Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. From such a den the wolf had sprung, In such the wild-cat leaves her young; Yet Douglas and his daughter fair Sought for a space their safety there. Gray Superstition's whisper dread Debarred the spot to vulgar tread ; For there, she said, did fays resort, And satyrs hold their silvan court, By moonlight tread their mystic maz(?, And blast the rash beholder's gaze. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [cakto It! xxvil" Now eve, \vith western shadows long, Floated on Katrine bright and strong, When Roderick, with a cliosen few, Repassed the heights of Benvenue. Above the Goblin-cave they go, Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo; The prompt retainers speed before. To launch the shallop from the shore, For cross Loch Katrine lies his way To view the passes of Achray, And place his clansmen in array. Yet lags the chief in musing mind, Unwonted sight, his men behind. A single page, to bear his sword, Alone attended on his lord ; The rest their way through thickets break, And soon await him by the lake. It was a fair and gallant sight. To view them from the neighbouring height, By the low-levelled sunbeam's light ! For strength and stature, from the clan Each warrior was a chosen man, As even afar might well be seen, By their proud step and martial mien. Their feathers dance, their tartans float, Their targets gleam, as by the boat A wild and warlike group they stand. That well became such mountain strand. XXVIIL Tlieir Chief, with step reluctant, still Was lingering on the craggy hill. Hard by where turned apart the road To Douglas's obscure abode. It was but with that dawning morn, That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn, To drown his love in war's wild roar, Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; But he who stems a stream with sand, And fetters flame with flaxen band, Has yet a harder task to prove — By firm resolve to concLuer level CANTO iir.] THE GATHERING. 83 Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, Still hovering near his treasure lost ; For though his haughty heart deny A jxirting meeting to his eye, Still fondly strains his anxious ear, The accents of her voice to hear, And inly did he curse the breeze That waked to sound the rustling trees. But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? It is the harp of Allan-bane, That wakes its measure slow and high Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. What melting voice attends the strings ? 'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. XXIX. HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. A7't' Maria / maiden mild ! Listen to a maiden's prayer ! Thou canst hear though from the wild, Thou canst save amid despair. Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, Though banished, outcast, and reviled — Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; Mother, hear a suppliant child ! Ave Maria/ Ave Maria / undefiled ! The flinty couch we now must share Shall seem with down of eider piled, H thy protection hover there. The murky cavern's heavy air Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled; Then, Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer. Mother, list a suppliant child ! Ave Maria! Ave Maria ! Stainless styled ! Foul demons of the earth and air, From this their wonted haunt exiled^ Shall flee before thy presence fair. We bow us to our lot of care, lieneath thy guidance reconciled ; Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, And for a father hear a child I A ve Maria I 84 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto III. XXX. ~ Died On the harp the closing hymn — Unmoved in attitude and limb, As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord Stood leaning on his heavy sword, Until the page, with humble sign. Twice pointed to the sun's decline. Then while his plaid he round liim cast, ' It is the last time — 'tis the last,' He muttered thrice — ' the last time e'er That angel-voice shall Roderick hear! ' It was a goading thought — his stride Hied hastier down the mountain-side ; Sullen he flung him in the boat. And instant 'cross the lake it shot. They landed in that silvery bay, And eastward held their hasty way, Till, v/ith the latest beams of light, The band arrived on Lanrick height, Where mustered, in the vale below, Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. XXXL A various scene the clansmen made, Some sate, some stood, some slowly strayed ; But most, with mantles folded round, Were couched to rest upon the ground. Scarce to be known by curious eye, From the deep heather where they He, So well was matched the tartan screen With heath-bell dark and brake ns green ; Unless where, here and there, a blade. Or lance's point, a glimmer made, Like glow-w^orm twinkling through the shade But when, advancing through the gloom. They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, Shook the steep mountain's steady side. Thrice it arose, and lake and fell Tliree times returned the martial yell ; It died upon Bochastle's plain, And silence claimed her evening reign. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, CANTO FOURTH. I. < *- I ^1 T>. rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, X .And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears The r<)so Is sweetest washed with morning dew. And love is lovehest when embalmed in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years ! ' Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. II. Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay, For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, A wakeful sentinel lie^ stood. Hark ! — on tlie rock a footstep rung, And instant to his arms he sprung. * Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ?— soon Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. liy thy keen step and glance I know, Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.' — (For while the Fiery Cross hied on, On distant scout had Malise gone.) 8S 86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto i^. * Where sleeps the Chief ? ' the henchman said. * Apart, in yonder misty glade ; To his lone couch I'll be your guide.' — Then called a slumberer by his side, And stirred him with his slackened bow — * Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! We seek the Chieftain ; on the track, Keep eagle watch till I come back.' in. Together up the pass they sped : * What of the foemen.^' ' Norman said. — 'Varying reports from near and far; This certain — that a band of war Has for two days been ready boune, At prompt command, to march from Doune •, King James, the while, with princely powers, Holds revelry in Stirling towers. Soon will this dark and gathering cloud Speak on our glens in thunder loud. Inured to bide such bitter bout. The warrior's plaid may bear it out ; But, Norrpan, how wilt thou provide A shelter for thy bonny bride ? ' — * What ! know ye not that Roderick's care To the lone isle hath caused repair Each maid and matron of the clan, And every child and aged man Unfit for arms ; and given his charge, Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, Upon these lakes shall float at large, But all beside the islet moor, That such dear pledge may rest secure ? — IV. "Tis well advised — the Chieftain's plan Bespeaks the father of his clan. But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu Apart from all his followers true 1 ' — * It is, because last evening-tide Brian an augury hath tried. Of that dread kind which must not be Unless in dread extremity. CANTO IV.] THE PROPHECY. 87 The Taghairm called ; by which, afar, Our sires foresaw the events of war. Duncraggaii's milk-white bull they slew.' — MALISE. Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! The choicest of the prey we had, When swept our merry-men Gallangad, His hide was snow, his horns were dark. His red eye glowed like fiery spark ; So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, Sore did he cumber our retreat. And kept our stoutest kernes in awe. Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. But steep and flinty was the road, And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, And when we came to Dennan's Row, A child might scatheless stroke his brow.*— V. NORMAN. *That bull was slain : his reeking hide They stretched the cataract beside. Whose waters their wild tumult toss Adown the black and craggy boss Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. Couched on a shelve beneath its brink, Close where the thundering torrents sink, Rocking beneath their headlong sway, And drizzled by the ceaseless spray. Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream. The wizard waits prophetic dream. Nor distant rests the chief ; — but hush ! See, gliding slow through mist and bush, The hermit gains yon rock, and stands To gaze upon our slumbering bands. Seems not he, Malise, like a ghost, That hovers o'er a slaughtered host ? Or raven on the blasted oak, That, watching while the deer is broke, His morsel claims with sullen croak ? ' 88 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto iv. MALISE. — ' Peace ! peace ! to other than to me, Thy words were evil augury ; But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell, Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. The Chieftain joins him, see — and now, Together they descend the brow.* VL And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord The Hermit monk held solemn word : ' Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, For man endowed with mortal hfe. Whose shroud of sentient clay can still Feel feverish pang and fainting chill. Whose eye can stare in stony trance, Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance — • 'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled. The curtain of the future world. Yet, witness every quaking limb. My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, l\Iy soul with harrowing anguish torn, This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — The shapes that sought my fearful couch, A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; No mortal man — save he, who, bred Between the living and the dead. Is gifted beyond nature's law — Had e'er survived to say he saw. At length the fatal answer came, In characters of living flame ! Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll. But borne and branded on my soul ; — Which spills the foremost foeman's life, That party conquers in the strife.' VII. ' Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care ! Good is thine au^^ury, and fair. CANTO IV.] THE PROPHECY. 89 Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood, But first our broadswords tasted blood. A surer victim still I know, Self-offered to the auspicious blow : A spy has sought my land this morn — No eve shall witness his return ! My followers guard each pass's mouth, To east, to westward, and to south ; Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, Has charge to lead his steps aside, Till, in deep path or dingle brown. He light on those shall bring him down. — But see, who com.es his news to shew ! Malise ! what tidings of the foe ?' — VIII. At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive, Two Barons proud their banners wave. I saw the Moray's silver star. And marked the sable pale of Mar.' * By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! I love to hear of wortliy foes. When move they on ? ' — ' To-morrow's noon Will see them here for battle boune.' * Then shall it see a meeting stern ! — But, for the place — say, couldst thou learn Nought of the friendly clans of Earn ? Strengthened by them, we well might bide The battle on Benledi's side. Thou couldst not ? — well ! Clan-Alpine's men Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ; Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight, All in our maids' and matrons' sight, Each for his hearth and household fire, Father for child, and son for sire — Lover for maid beloved ! — But why — Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear ! A messenger of doubt or fear ? No ! sooner may the Saxon lance Unfix Benledi from his stance, Than doubt or terror can pierce through The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 90 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto 17. 'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. Each to his post! — all know their charge.* The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — I turn me from the martial roar. And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. IX. Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone And Ellen sits on the gray stone Fast by the cave, and makes her moan ; While vainly Allan's words of cheer Are poured on her unheeding ear. — *He will return — Dear lady, trust! — With joy return ; — he will — he must. Well was it time to seek, afar, Some refuge from impending war, When e'en Clan- Alpine's rugged swarm Are cowed by the approaching storm. I saw their boats with many a light, Floating the live-long yesternight, Shifting like flashes darted forth By the red streamers of the north ; I marked at morn how close they ride, Thick moored by the lone islet's side, Like wild-ducks couching in the fen. When stoops the hawk upon the glen. Since this rude race dare not abide The peril on the mainland side. Shall not thy noble father's care Some safe retreat for thee prepare ? ' — • X. ELLEN. ' No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind My wakeful terrors could not blind. When in such tender tone, yet grave, Douglas a parting blessing gave. The tear that glistened in his eye Drowned not his purpose fixed on high. CANTO IV.] THE PROPHECY. My soul, though feminine and weak, Can image his ; e'en as the lake, Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, Reflects the invulnerable rock. He hears report of battle rife, He deems himself the cause of strife. I saw him redden, when the theme Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught ? Oh no ! 'twas apprehensive thought For the kind youth — for Roderick too — (Let me be just) that friend so true ; In danger botli, and in our cause ! IMinstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. Why else that solemn warning given, *' If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! " Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, If eve return him not r.gain, Am I to hie, and make me known ? Alas ! he goes to Scotland's rhrone, Buys his friend's safety with his own ;— ■ He goes to do — what I have done, Had Douglas' daughter been his son! XI. 'Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay! If aught should his return delay, He only named yon holy fane As fitting place to meet again. Be sure he's safe ; and for the Gramme — Heaven's blessing on his gallant name !— =• My visioned sight may yet prove true, Nor bode of ill to him or you. When did my gifted dream beguile ? Think of the stranger at the isle, And think upon the harpings slow. That presaged this approaching woe ! Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; Believe it when it augurs cheer. Would we had left this dismal spot ! Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto IV. Of such a wondrous tale I know — Dear lady, change that look of woe, My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.' — ELLEN. * Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear, But cannot stop the bursting tear.' The Minstrel tried his simple art. But distant far was Ellen's heart. XIL ALICE BRAND. Merry it is in the good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing. When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, And the hunter's horn is ringing. * O Alice Brand, my native land Is lost for love of you ; And we must hold by wood and wold. As outlaws wont to do. O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright. And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue. That, on the night of our luckless flight, Thy brother bold I slew. * Now must I teach to hew the beech, The hand that held the glaive. For leaves to spread our lowly bed, And stakes to fence our cave. * And for vest of pall, thy fingers small. That wont on harp to stray, A cloak must sheer from the slaughtered deer To keep the cold away.'- * O Richard ! if my brother died, 'Twas but a fatal chance ; For darkling was the battle tried. And fortune sped the lance. CANTO iv.j THE PROPHECY. 93 * If pall and vair no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen, As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray. As gay the forest-green. * And, Richard, if our lot be hard, And lost thy native land, Still Alice has her own Richard, And he his Alice Brand.' XIII. BALLAD CONTINUED. 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing. Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who woned within the hill — Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, His voice was ghostly shrill. ' Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen ? Or wlx) comes here to chase the deer. Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? Or who may dare on wold to wear The fairies' fatal green ? * Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christened man ; For cross or sign thou wilt not fiy. For muttered word or ban. 'Lay on him the curse of the withered heart. The curse of the sleepless eye ; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die.' XIV. BALLAD CONTINUED. Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, Though the birds have stilled their singing ; The evening blaze doth Alice raise, And Richard is fagots bringing. 94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [canTO iv. Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf. Before Lord Richard stands, And, as he crossed and blessed himself. ' I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, ' That is made with bloody hands. But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That woman void of fear — * And if there's blood upon his hand, 'Tis but the blood of deer.' — * Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ] It cleaves unto his hand. The stain of thine own kindly blood, The blood of Ethert Brand.' Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, And made the holy sign — * And if there's blood on Richard's hand, A spotless hand is mine. 'And I conjure thee. Demon elf. By Him whom Demons fear, To shew us whence thou art thyself, And what thine errand here 1 ' — XV. BALLAD CONTINUED. ' 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, When fairy birds are singing. When the court doth ride by their monarch's side With bit and bridle ringing : 'And gaily shines the Fairy-land — But all is glistening show. Like the idle gleam that December's beam Can dart on ice and snow. •And fading, like that varied gleam. Is our inconstant shape. Who now like night and lady seem, And now like dwarf and ape. CAKTO IV.] THE PROPHECY. 95 * It was between the night and clay, When the Fairy King has power, That I sunk down in a sinful fray, And, 'twixt h"fe and death, was snatched away To the joyless Elfin bower. * But wist I of a woman bold, Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mold, As fair a form as thine.' She crossed him once— she crossed him twice - That lady was so brave ; The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave. She crossed him thrice, that lady bold; He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Scottish mold, Her drother, Ethert Brand ! Merry it is in good greenwood. When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray When all the bells were ringing. XVI. Just as the minstrel sounds were staid, A stranger climbed the steepy glade ; His martial step, his stately mien. His hunting suit of Lincoln green. His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James Ellen beheld as in a dream, Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream: ' O stranger ! in such hour of fear, What evil hap has brought thee here ? ' — * An evil hap how can it be, That bids me look again on thee ? By promise bound, my former guide Met me betimes this morning tide. And marshalled, over bank and bourae, The happy path of my return.' — ^6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto IV. * The happy path ! — what ! said he nought Of war of battle to be fought, Of guarded pass ? ' — ' No, by my faith ! Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' — ' O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, — Yonder his tartans I discern ; Learn thou his purpose, and conjure That he will guide the stranger sure I-- What prompted thee, unhappy man ? The meanest serf in Roderick's clan Had not been bribed by love or fear, Unknown to him to guide thee here.' — XVIL ' Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Since it is worthy care from thee ; Yet life I hold but idle breath. When love or honour's weighed with death. Then let me profit by my chance, And speak my purpose bold at once. I come to bear thee from a wald, Where ne'er before such blossom smiled ; P>y this soft hand to lead thee far From frantic scenes of feud and war. Near Bochastle my horses wait ; They bear us soon to Stirling gate. I'll place thee in a lovely bower, ril guard thee like a tender flower ' * O ! hush, Sir Knight ! 'twere female art, To say I do not read thy heart ; Too much, before, my selfish ear Was idly soothed my praise to hear. That fatal bait hath lured thee back. In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; And how, O how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought (mi ! — One way remains — I'll tell him all — Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall ! Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! But first — my father is a man Outlawed and exiled, under ban^* CANTO IV.] THE PROPHECY. 97 The price of blood is on his head, With me 'twere infamy to wed. — Still wouldst thou speak? — then hear the truth! Fitz-James, there is a noble youth — If yet he is ! — exposed for me And mine to dread extremity — Thou hast the secret of my heart ; Forgive, be generous, and depart XVIII. i» Fitz-James knew every wily train A lady's fickle heart to gain, But here he knew and felt them vain. There shot no glance from Ellen's eye. To give her steadfast speech the lie ; In maiden confidence she stocr\ Though mantled in her cheek the blcod. And told her love with such a si^h Of deep and hopeless agony, As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom, And she sat sorrowing on his tonib. Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, But not with hope fied sympathy. He proffered to attend her side, As brother would a sister guide. — * O ! little know'st thou Roderick's heart ! Safer for both we go apart. O haste thee, and from Allan leant, If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.* With hand upon his forehead laid, The conflict of his mind to shade, A parting step or two he made ; Then, as some thought had crossed his brain He paused, and turned, and came again. KIX. * Hear, lady, yet, a parting word ! — It chanced in fight that my poor sword Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. This ring the grateful monarch gave, And bade, when I had boon to crave, 9S THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto iv. To bring it back, and boldly claim The recompense that I would name. Ellen, I am no courtly lord, But one who lives by lance and sword, Whose castle is his helm and shield, His lordship the embattled field. What from a prince can I demand, Who neither reck of state nor land ? Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; Each guard and usher knows the sign. Seek thou the king without delay ; This signet shall secure thy way ; And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, As ransom of his pledge to me.' He placed the golden circlet on. Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone. The aged Minstrel stood aghast. So hastily Fitz-James shot past. He joined his guide, and wending down The ridges of the mountain brown, Across the stream they took their way, That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. XX. All in the Trosachs' glen was still, Noontide was sleeping on the hill : Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — ' Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? ' — He stammered forth — ' I shout to scare Yon raven from his dainty fare.' He looked — he knew the raven's prey. His own brave steed : — * Ah, gallant gray ! For thee — for me, perchance — 'twere well We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — Murdoch, move first — but silently ; Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die ! ' Jealous and sullen on they faxeiU Each silent, each upon his guard. XXL Now wound the path its dizzy ledge Around a precipice's edge, CANTO IV.] THE PROPHECY. 99 When lo ! a wasted female form, Bli<:jhted by wrath of sun and storm, In tattered weeds and wild array, Stood on a cliff beside the way. And glancing round her restless eye, Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, Seemed nought to mark, yet all to spy. Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom ; With gesture wild she waved a plume Of feathers, which the eagles fling To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; Such spoils her desperate step had sought, Where scarce was footing for the goat. The tartan plaid she first descried, And shrieked till all the rocks replied ; As loud she laughed when near they drew, For then the Lowland garb she knew ; And then her hands she wildly wrung, And then she wept, and then she sung — She sung! — the voice, in better time, Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; Artd now, though strained and roughened, still Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. XXII. SONG. They bid me sleep, they bid me pray. They say my brain is warped and wrung — I cannot sleep on Highland brae, I cannot pray in Highland tongue. But were I now where Allan glides. Or heard my native Devan's tides. So sweetly would I rest, and pray That heaven would close my wintry day. 'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid. They made me to the church repair ; It was my bridal morn, they said. And my true love would meet me there. But woe betide the cruel guile, That drowned in blood the morning smile ! And woe betide the fairy dream t I only waked lo sob and scream. 100 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto iv, XXIIL 'Who is this maid ? what means her lay ? She hovers o'er the hollow way, And flutters wide her mantle gray, As the lone heron spreads his wing-, By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.' — ' 'Tis Blanche of Devan,' Murdoch said, ' A crazed and captive Lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, When RodericK forayed Devan-side. The gay bridegroom resistance made, And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. I marvel she is now at large, But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin'g charge. — Hence, brain-sick fool ! ' — He raised his bow : — ' Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far As ever peasant pitched a bar ! ' ' Thanks, champion, thanks ! ' the Maniac cried, And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. ' See the gray pennons I prepare, To seek my true-love through the air! I will not lend that savage groom, To break his fall, one downy plume I No ! — deep amid disjointed stones. The wolves shall batten on his bones, And then shall his detested plaid, By bush and brier in mid air staid. Wave forth a banner fair and free. Meet signal for their revelry.' — XXIV. ' Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! ' — ' O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. — Mine eye has dried and wasted been, But still it loves the Lincoln green ; And, though mine ear is all unstrung. Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. * For O my sweet William was forester true, He stole poor Blanche's heart away ! His coat it was all of the greenwood hue. And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay ! ANTO iv.] THE rRUPHECV. '^ lot ' It was not that I meant to tell .... But thou art wise, and guessest well.' Then, in a low and broken tone, And hurried note, the song went on. Still on the Clansman, fearfully. She fixed her apprehensive eye ; Then turned it on the Knight, and then Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. XXV. *The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, Ever sing merrily, merrily ; The bows they bend, and the knives they whet, Hunters live so cheerily. ' It was a stao". a stag of ten, Bearing his "branches sturdily; He came stately down the glen, *■ Ever sing hardily, hardily. ' It was there he met with a wounded dop^ She was bleeding deathfully ; She warned him of the toils below, O, so faithfully, faithfully ! * He had an eye, and he could heed, Ever sing warily, warily ; He had a foot, and he could speed — Hunters watch so narrow-ly.' XXVI. Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed, When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought. — Not like a stag that spies the snare, But lion of the hunt aware, He waved at once his blade on high, * Disclose thy treachery, or die ! ' Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, But in his race his \)0\\ he drew. 102 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto tv. The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast — Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ! With heart of fire, and foot of wind, The fierce avenger is behind ! Fate judges of the rapid strife — The forfeit death — the prize is life ! Thy kindred ambush lies before. Close couched upon the heathery moor , Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be — Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see, The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! — Kesistless speeds the deadly thrust. As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, Ere he can win his blade again. Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die; Then slower wended back his way, Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. xxvn. She sate beneath the birchen *:ree, Her elbow resting on her knee ; She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, And gazed on it, and feebly laughed ; Her wreath of broom and leathers gray, Daggled with blood, beside her lay. The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried — 'Stranger, it is in vain ! ' she cried. * This hour of death has given me more Of reason's power than years before ; For, as these ebbing veins decay, My frenzied visions fade away. A helpless injured wretch I die, And something tells me in thine eye. That thou wert mine avenger born. — Seest thou this tress ? — O ! still I 've worn This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! It once was bright and clear as thine. But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. .XTO IV.] THE PROPHECV. tdj I will not tell thee when 'twas shredj For from what guiltless victim's head — ■ My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave Like plumage on thy helmet brave, Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, And thou wilt bring it me again. — I waver still. — O God ! more bright Let reason beam her parting light !— O ! by thy knighthood's honoured sign, And for thy life preserved by mine, When thou shalt see a darksome man, Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's clan, With tartans broad and shadowy plume, And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong! — They watch for thee by pass and fell . . - Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell. XXVIIL A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James ; Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims. And now, with mingled grief and ire, He saw the murdered maid expire. * God, in my need, be my relief. As I wreak this on yonder Chief!* A lock from Blanche's tresses fair He blended with her bridegroom's hair ; The mingled braid in blood he dyed, And placed it on his bonnet-side : *By Him, whose word is truth ! I swear, No other favour will I wear, Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! — But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ? The chase is up — but they shall know, The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.' Barred from the known but guarded way, Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, And oft must change his desperate track, By stream and precipice turned back. Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, From lack of food and loss of strength, 104 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto iV. He couched him in a thicket hoar, And thought his toils and perils o'er : — ' Of all my rash adventures past, This frantic feat must prove the last ! Who e'er so mad but might have guessed, That all this Highland hornet's nest Would muster up in swarms so soon As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? Like bloodhounds now they search me out — Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! — If farther through the wilds I go, I only fall upon the foe : I '11 couch me here till evening gray, Then darkling try my dangerous way,' XXIX. The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell ; Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright, Yet not enough from far to shew His figure to the watchful foe. With cautious step, and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; And not the summer solstice, there. Tempered the midnight mountain air, But every breeze, that swept the wold, Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. In dread, in danger, and alone, Famished and chilled, through v/ays unknown, Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burned. XXX. Beside its embers red and clear, Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer; And up he sprung with sw.ord in hand — * Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand ! ' — 0 CANTO iv.'j THE PROPHECV. 105 ' A stranger.' — ' What dost thou require ? ' — * Rest and a guide, and food and fire. My life's beset, my path is lost, The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' — * Art thou a friend to Roderick ?' — ' No.' — 'Thou darest not call thyself a foe ? ' — * I dare ! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand.' — ' Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim. Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Who ever recked, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapped or slain ? Thus treacherous scouts — yet sure they lie, Who say thou earnest a secret spy ? ' — ' They do, by heaven ! — Come Roderick Dhu, And of his clan the boldest two, And let me but till morning rest, I write the falsehood on tlieir crest.' — *• If by the blaze I mark aright. Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.'' — *■ Then by these tokens mayst thou know Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' — * Enough, enough ; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' XXXI. He gave him of his Highland cheer, The hardened flesh of mountain deer; Dry fuel on the fire he laid. And bade the Saxon share his plaid. He tended him like welcome guest. Then thus his further speech addressed : — - * Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu, A clansman born, a kinsman true ; Each word against his honour spoke. Demands of me avenging stroke ; Yet more — upon my fate, 'tis said, A mighty augury is laid. It rests with me to wind my horn — Thou art with numbers overborne ; I o6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [can to i v. It rests with me, here, brand to brand, Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, Will I depart from honour's laws ; To assail a wearied man were shame, And stranger is a holy name ; Guidance and rest, and food and fire. In vain he never must require. Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; Myself will guide thee on the way, O'er stock and stone, through v/atch and ward, Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. As far as Coilantogle's ford ; From thence thy warrant is thy sword.' — > * I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, As freely as 'tis nobly given ! ' — * Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' With that he shook the gathered heath, And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; And the brave foemen, side by side. Lay peaceful down like brothers tried. And slept until the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, CANTO FIFTH. ^\\z Combat. I. FAIR as the earliest beam of eastern liglu, When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, And lights the fearful path on mountain side ; — Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star. Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War. II. That early beam, so fair and sheen, Was twinkling through the hazel screen, When, rousing at its glimrwer red. The w-arriors left their lowly bed. Looked out upon the dappled, sky, Muttered their soldier matins by. And then awaked their fire, to steal, As short and rude, their soldier meal. That o'er, the Gael around him threw His graceful plaid of varied hue. And, true to promise, led the way, By thicket green and mountain gray. 112 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto V. A wilder! ng path ! — they winded now Along the precipice's brow, Commanding the rich scenes beneath, The windings of the Forth and Teith And all the vales between that lie, Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain Assistance from the hand to gain ; So tangled oft, that, bursting through, Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew — That diamond dew, so pure and clear. It rival's all but Beauty's tear ! in. At lengtn they came where, stern and steep, The hill sinks down upon the deep. Here Vennachar in silver flows, There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ', Ever the hollow path twined on. Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; An hundred men might hold the post With hardihood against a host. The rugged mountain's scanty cloak Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, With shingles bare, and cliffs between, And patches bright of bracken green, And heather black, that waved so high, It held the copse in rivalry. But where the lake slept deep and still, Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; And oft both path and hill were torn, Where wintry torrents down had borne, And heaped upon the cumbered land Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. So toilsome was the road toj[race, The guide, abating of his pace. Led slowly through the pass's jaws, And asked Fitz-James.jS^what strange cause, He sought these wilds, traversed by few, Without a pass irom Roderick Dhu. CANTO v.] THE COMBAT. 113 IV. ' Brave Gae], my pass, in danger tried, Hangs in my belt, and by my side ; Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said, ' I dreamt not now to claim its aid. When here, but three days since, I came, Bewildered in pursuit of game, All seemed as peaceful and as still As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, Nor soon expected back from war. Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, Though deep perchance the villain lied.' — * Yet why a second venture try ? ' — * A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — JMoves our free course by such fixed cause, As gives the poor mechanic laws ? Enough, I sought to drive away The lazy hours of peaceful day ; Slight cause will then suffice to guide A Knight's free footsteps far and wide — A falcon fiown, a greyhound strayed, The merry glance of mountain maid: Or, if a path be dangerous known, The danger's self is lure alone.' — V. 'Thy secret keep, I urge thee not; — Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye not of Lowland war. Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?' — ' No, by my word ; — of bands prepared To guard King James's sports I heard ; Kr- MiV'bt I aught, but, when they hear iter of the mountaineer, :.^nnons will abroad be flung, ^^ i.^UiJ else in Doune had peaceful hung.' — ' ^w.v be they flung ! for we were loth Thc-.'u silken folds should feast the moth. Free be they flung ! — as free shall wave Clan- Alpine's pine in banner brave. 114 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto V. But, Stranorer, peaceful since you came, Bewildered in the mountain o:ame, Whence the bold boast by which you shew Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe ? ' ' Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew Nought of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Save as an outlawed desperate man, The chief of a rebellious clan. Who, in the Regent's court and sight. With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight: Yet this alone might from his part Sever each true and loyal heart.* VL Wrothful at such arraignment foul, Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. A space he paused, then sternly said, ' And heard'st thou v/hy he drew his blade ? Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ? What recked the Chieftain if he stood On Highland heath or Holy-Rood ? He rights such wrong where it is given, If it were in the court of heaven.' * Still was it outrage ; — yet, 'tis true, Not then claimed sovereignty his due ; While Albany, with feeble hand, Held borrowed truncheon of command, The young King, mewed in Stirling tower, Was stranger to respect and power. But then, thy Chieftain's robber life ! Winning mean prey by causeless strife. Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain His herds and harvest reared in vain. Methinks a soul like thine should scorn The spoils from such foul foray borne.' VIL The Gael behind him grim the while. And answered with disdainful smile — * Saxon, from yonder mountain high, I marked thee send delighted eye, CANTO v.] THE COMBAT. 115 Far to the south and cast, where lay, Extended in succession gay, Deep waving fields and pastures greeOr With gentle slopes and groves between ,—' These fertile plains, that softened vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael ; The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. Where dwell we now .? See, rudely swel! Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage hill we tread. For fattened steer or household bread ; Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, And well the mountain might reply — "To you, as to your sires of yore, Belong the target and claymore ! I give you shelter in my breast, Your own good blades must win the rest." Pent in this fortress of the North, Think'st thou we will not sally forth, To spoil the spoiler as we may. And from the robber rend the prey ? Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain The Saxon rears one shock of grain ; While, of ten thousand herds, there strays But one along yon river's maze — The Gael, of plain and river heir. Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold That plundering Lowland field and f jld Is aught but retribution true ? ?feek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.' VIII. Answered Fitz- James — 'And, if I sought, Thinkst thou no other could be brought ? What deem ye of my path waylaid } My life given o'er to ambuscade } ' — 'As of a meed to rashness due : Hadst thou sent warning fair and true — I seek my hound, or falcon strayed. I seek, good faith, a Highland maid^ ii6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto Free hadst thou been to come and go ; But secret path marks secret foe. Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, Save to fulfil an augury.' ' Well, let it pass ; nor will I now Fresh cause of enmity avow, TQ,.chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. Enough, I am by promise tied To match me with this man of pride : Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen In peace i but when 1 come agen, I com.e with banner, brand, and bow, As leader seeks his mortal foe. For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, As I, until before me stand This rebel Chieftain and his band ! ' IX. ' Have, then, thy wish ! '—he whistled shrill, And he was answered from the hill ; Wild as the scream of the curlew. From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose Bonnets, and spears, and bended bows ; On right, on left, above, below. Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; From shingles gray their lances start, The bracken bush sends forth the dart,- The rushes and the willow- wand Are bristling into axe and brand, And every tuft of broom gives life To plaided warrior armed for strife. That whistle garrisoned the glen At once with full five hundred men, As if the yawning hill to heaven A subterranean host had given. Watching their leader's beck and will, All silent there they stood, and still. Like the loose crags whose threatening mass Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, Canto v.] THE COMBAT. iij As if an infant's touch could urge Their headlong passage down the verge, With step and weapon forward tlung, Upon the mountain-side they hung. The Mountaineer cast glance of pride Along Benledi's living side, Then fixed his eye and sable brow Full on Fitz-James — ' How say'st thou now ? These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true ; And, Saxon — I am Roderick Dhu I ' X. Fitz-James was brave : — Though to his heart The life-blood thrilled with sudden start, He manned himself with dauntless air, Returned the Chief his haughty stare, His back against a rock he bore, And firmly placed his foot before : — 'Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.' Sir Roderick marked — and in his eyes Respect was mingled with surprise, ^YyuXj3A)( And the stern joy which warriors feel ..t^^ta^U<\ln foemen worthy of their steel. /u^n^tM,<. , Short space he stood — then waved his hand : (j Down sunk the disappearing band ; Each warrior vanished where he stood. In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; Sunk brand, and spear, and bended bow. In osiers pale and copses low; It seemed as if their mother Earth Had swallowed up her warlike birth. The wind's last breath had tossed in air, Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair — The next but swept a lone hill-side. Where heath and fern were waving wide ; The sun's last glance was glinted back, From spear and glaive, from targe and jac*: — The next, all unretlected, shone On bracken green, and cold gray stone. ^Yy^jJic THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [canTo XL Fitz-James looked round — yet scarce believed The witness that his sight received ; Such apparition well might seem Delusion of a dreadful dream. Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, And to his look the Chief replied, ' Fear nought — nay, that I need not say- But — doubt not aught from mine array. Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle ford : Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one valiant hand. Though on our strife lay every vale Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. So move we on ; — I only meant To shew the reed on which you leant, Deeming this path you might pursue Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.' They moved ; — I said Fitz-James was brave, As ever knight that belted glaive ; Yet dare not say, that no\>; his blood Kept on its wont and tempered flood, As, following Roderick's stride, he drew That seeming lonesome pathway through. Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife With lances, that, to take his life, Waited but signal from a guide. So late dishonoured and defied. Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round The vanished guardians of the ground. And still, from copse and heather deep, Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, And in the plover's shrilly strain, The signal whistle heard again. Nor breathed he free till far behind The pass was left ; for then they wind Along a wide and level green, Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, *lo hide a bonnet or a spear. C«/iNTo vj THE COiMBAT. 119 XII. The Chief in silence strode before, And reached that torrent's sounding shore, Which, dalighter of three mighty lakes, F'rom V'ennachar in silver breaks, Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless minet On Bochastle the mouldering lines, Where Rome, the Empress of the world, Of yore lier eagle wings unfurled : And here his course the Chieftain staid, Threw down his target and his plaid, And to the Lowland warrior said : — ' Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, This head of a rebellious clan. Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. Now, rran to man, and steel to steel, A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. See, here, all vantageless I stand. Armed, like thyself, with single brand : For this is Coilantogle ford, And thou must keep thee with thy sword.' XIII. The Saxon paused : — ' I ne'er delayed. When foeman bade me draw my blade ; Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death: Yet sure thy fair and generous faith. And my deep debt for life preserved, A better meed have well deserved : Can nought but blood our feud atone .'* Are there no means .?' — ' No, Stranger, none ! And hear — to fire th.y flagging zeal — The Saxon cause rests on thy steel: For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred Between the living and the dead ; " Who spills the foremost foeman's life. His party conquers in the strife.'" — * Then, by my word,' the Saxon said| * Thy riddle is already read. V20 THE LADY OP^ THE LAKE, [canto v. Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff — There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiif Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, Then yield to Fate and not to me. To James, at Stirling, let us go, When, if thou wilt be still his foe, Or if the King sliall not agree To grant thee grace and favour free, I plight mine honour, oath, and word, That, to thy native strengths restored. With each advantage shalt thou stand, That aids thee now to guard thy land.' XIV. Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye— ' Soars thy presumption, then, so high, Because a wretched kern ye slew. Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : — My clansman's blood demands revenge. — Not yet prepared ? — By heaven, I change My thought, and hold thy valour light As that of some vain carpet knight. Who ill deserved my courteous care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair.' — — ' I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, begone ! Yet think not that by thee alone, Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shewn ; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, Start at my whistle clansmen stern. Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds against thee cast. Hat fear not — doubt not — which thou will — We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.' Then eacli at once his falchion drew. Each on the ground his scabbard threw, CANTO V.J THE COMBAT. 121 Eacli looked to sun, and stream, and plain, As what they ne'er might see again ; Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, In dubious strife they darkly closed. XV. Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, That on the field his targe he threw, Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide Had death so often dashed aside ; For, trained abroad his arms to wield, Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. He practised every pass and ward. To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; While less expert, though stronger far. The Gael maintained unequal war. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood 5 No stinted draught, no scanty tide, The gushing flood the tartans dyed. Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, And showered his blows like wintry rain ; And, as firm rock, or castle-roof. Against the winter shower is proof, The foe, invulnerable still. Foiled his wild rage by steady skill ; Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, And backward borne upon the lea, Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. XVI. * Now, yield thee, or by Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade *Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! T.et recreant yield, who fears to die.' — Like adder darting from his coil. Like wolf that dashes through the toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young. Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung : Received, but recked not of a wound. And locked liis aims his focman round.— 122 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto v Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, Through bars of brass and triple steel ! — They tug, they strain ! down, down they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below. The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed, His knee was pknted in his breast; His clotted locks he backward threw. Across his brow his hand he drew, From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! — — But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game ; For, while the dagger gleamed on high. Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. Down came the blow ! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath. The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; Unwounded from the dreadful close. But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. XVIL He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, IRedeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife ; Next on his foe his look he cast, Whose every gasp appeared his last ; In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid — * Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid; Yet with thy foe must die, or live. The praise that Faith and Valour give.' With that he blew a bugle note. Undid the collar from his throat, Unbonneted, and by the wave Sat down his brow and hands to lave. Then faint afar are heard the feet Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; The sounds increase, and now are seen Four mounted sc^uircs in Lincoln green; CAKTO v.] THE COMBAt. 123 Two who bear lance, and two who lead, By loosened rein, a saddled steed ; Each onward held his headlong course. And by Fitz-James reined up his horse — With wonder viewed the bloody spot — 'Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. — You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; Let the gray palfrey l.»ear his weight. We destined for a fairer freight, And bring him on to Stirling straight ; I will before at better speed, To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. The sun rides high ; — I must be boune, To see the archer game at noon ; But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — De Vaux and Herries, follow me. XVIII. 'Stand, Bayard, stand ! ' — the steed obeyed, With arching neck and bended head. And glancing eye and quivering ear, As if he loved his lord to hear. No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid, No grasp upon the saddle laid. But wreathed his left hand in the mane, And lightly bounded from the plain. Turned on the horse his armed heel. And stirred his courage with the steel. Bounded the fiery steed in air, The rider sate erect and fair. Then hke a bolt from steel crossbow Forth launched, along the plain they go. They dashed that rapid torrent through, And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, His merry-men followed as they might. Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, And in the race they mock thy tide ; Torry and Lendrick now are past. And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; They rise, the bannered towers of Doune Tbey sink in distant woodland soon j 124 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto v Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; They mark just glance and disappear The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; They bathe their courser's sweltering sides, Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, And on the opposing shore take ground, With plash, with scramble, and with bound. Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Fortli ! And soon the bulwark of the North, Gray Stirling, with her towers and town. Upon their fleet career looked down. XIX. As up the flinty path they strained. Sudden his steed the leader reined ; A signal to his squire he flung. Who instant to his stirrup sprung : — * Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray Who town-ward holds the rocky way, Of stature tall and poor array ? Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride. With which he scales the mountain-side ? Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ?' * No, by my word ; — a burly groom He seems, who in the field or chase A baron's train would nobly gra-ce.' — * Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply, And jealousy, no sharper eye ? Afar, ere to the hill he drew, That stately form and step I knew ; Like form in Scotland is not seen. Treads not such step on Scottish green. 'Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! The uncle of the banished Earl. Away, away, to court, to shew The near approach of dreaded foe . The King must stand upon his guard ; Douglas and he must meet prepared.' Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, ana stmight They won the castle's postern gate. CANTO v.] THE COMBAT. 125 XX. The Douglas, who had bent his way From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray, Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf. Held sad communion with himself : — ' Yes ! all is true my fears could frame •, A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, And fiery Roderick soon will feel The vengeance of the royal steel. I, only I, can ward their fate — God grant the ransom come not late ! The Abbess hath her promise given, My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — - — Be pardoned one repining tear ! For He, who gave her, know^s how dear, How excellent I but that, is by, And now my business is — to die. — Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; And thou, O sad and fatal m.ound ! That oft hast heard the death-axe sound, As on the noblest of the land Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand — The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom 1 — But hark ! what blithe and Jolly peal IMakes the Franciscan steeple reel? And see ! upon the crowded street, In motley groups \\\mi masquers meet I Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, And merry morrice-dancers come. J guess, by all this quaint array. The burghers hold their sports to-day. James will be there ; he loves such show, Where the good yeoman bends his bow, And the tough wrestler foils his foe, As well as where, in proud career. The high-born tilter shivers spear. ril follow to the Castle-park, And play my prize ; — King James shall mark, If age has tamed these sinews stark, Whose force so oft, in happier days, His boyish wonder loved to praise.' 126. THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [can?^ v. XXL The Castle gates were open flung, The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung, And echoed loud the flinty street Beneath the courser's clattering feet, As slowly down the steep descent Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, While all along the crowded way Was jubilee and loud huzza. And ever James was bending low, To his white jennet's saddlebow, Dofling his cap to city dame, Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. And well the simperer might be vain — He chose the fairest of the train. Gravely he greets each city sire, Commends each pageant's quaint attire, Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, And smiles and nods upon the crowd, Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, * Long live the Commons' King, King James !' Behind the King thronged peer and knight, And noble dame and damsel bright, Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay Of the steep street and crowded way. — But in the train you might discern Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; There nobles mourned their pride restrained, And the mean burgher's joys disdained ; And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan. Were each from home a banished man. There thought upon their own gray tower, Their waving woods, their feudal power, And deemed themselves a shameful part Of pageant which they cursed in heart. XXIL Now, in the Castle-park, drew out Their chequered bands the joyous rout There morricers, with bell at heel, CANTO v.] THE COMBAT. 127 But chief, beside the butts, there stand Bold Robin Hood and all his band — Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl. Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone, Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; Their bugles challenge all that will, In archery to prove their skill. The Douglas bent a bow of might. His first shaft centred in the white. And when in turn he shot again. His second split the first in twain. From the King's hand must Douglas take A silver dart, the archer's stake ; Fondly he watched, with watery eye, Some answering glance of sympathy — No kind emotion made reply! Indifferent as to archer wight, The monarch gave the arrow bridit. XXIII. Now, clear the ring ! for, hand to hand, The manly wrestlers take their stand. Two o'er the rest superior rose. And proud demanded mightier foes, Nor called in vain ; for Douglas came. — For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. Whom senseless home his comrades bear. Prize of the wrestling match, the King To Douglas gave a golden ring, While coldly glanced his eye of blue, As frozen drop of wintry dew. Douglas would speak, but in his breast His struggling soul his words suppressed; Indignant then he turned him where Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, To hurl the massive bar in air. When each his utmost strength had shewn. The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone From its deep bed, then heaved it high, And sent the fragment through the sVy, '&» 128 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto t>. A rood beyond the farthest mark; And still in Stirling's royal park, The gray-haired sires, who know the past, To strangers point the Douglas-cast, And moralise on the decay Of Scottish strength in modern day. XXIV. The vale with loud applauses rang, The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. The King, with look unmoved, bestowed A purse well filled with pieces broad. Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, And threw the gold among the crowd, Who now, with anxious wonder, scan, And sharper glance, the dark gray man ; Till whispers rose among the throng, That heart so free, and hand so stron< Must to the Douglas blood belong ; The old men marked and shook the head, To see his hair with silver spread. And winked aside, and told each son Of feats upon the English done. Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand Was exiled from his native land. The women praised his stately form, Though wrecked by many a winter's storm; The youth with awe and wonder saw His strength surpassing Nature's law. Thus judged, as is their \vpjlt, the crowd, Till murmurs rose to clamours loud. But not a glance from that proud ring Of peers who circled round the King, With Douglas held communion kind, Or called the banished man to mind ; No, not from those who, at the chase. Once held his side the honoured place, Begirt his board, and, in the field, Found safety underneath his shield : For he, whom royal eyes disown, When was his torm to courtiers known J CANTO v.] THE COMBAT. 129 XXV. The Monarch saw the gambols flag, And bade let loose a gallant stag, Whose pride, the holiday to crown, Two favourite greyhounds should pull down, That venison free and Bordeaux wine, Might serve the archery lo dine. 13ut Lufra — whom from Douglas' side Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, The fleetest hound in all the North — Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. She left the royal hounds mid-way, And dashing on the antlered prey, Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank, And deep the flowing life-blood drank. The King's stout huntsman saw the six)rt By strange intruder broken short, Came up, and, with his leash unbound, In anger struck the noble hound. — The Douglas had endured, that morn, The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, And last, and worst to spirit proud, Had }x)rne the pity of the crowd ; But Lufra had been fondly bred. To share his board, to watch his bed. And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck. In maiden glee, with garlands deck: They were such playmates, that with name Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. His stifled wrath is brimming high, In darkened brow and flashing eye; As waves before the bark divide, The crowd gave way before his stride ; Needs but a buffet and no more, The groom lies senseless in his gore. 'nich blow no other hand could deal, J hough gauntleted in glove of steel. XXVI. Then clamoured loud the royal train. And brandished swords and staves amaixi 130 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [caHTo v. But stern the Baron's warning — ' Back ! Back on your lives, ye menial pack ! Beware the Douglas. Yes ! behold, King James ' The Douglas, doomed of old, And vainly sought for near and far, A victim to atone the war, A wiUing victim now attends. Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.' * Thus is my clemency repaid 1 Presumptuous Lord ! ' the Monarch said ; *Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan, Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man. The only man, in whom a foe My woman mercy would not know : But shall a Monarch's presence brook Injurious blow, and haughty look ? — What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! Give the offender fitting ward, — Break off the sports ! ' — for tumult rose, And yeoman 'gan to bend their bows — * Break off the sports ! ' he said, and frowned, * And bid our horsemen clear the ground.' XXVIL Then uproar wild and misarray Marred the fair form of festal'day. The horsemen pricked among the crowd, Repelled by threats and insUlt loud ; To earth are borne the old and weak, The timorous fly, the women shriek ; With flmt, with shaft, with staff, with bar, The hardier urge tumultuous war. At once round Douglas darkly sweep The royal spears in'circle deep, And slowly scale the pathway steep, While on the rear in thunder pour The rabble with disordered roar. With grief the noble Douglas saw The Commons rise against the law, And to the leading soldier said — * Sir John of Hyndford ! 'twas my blade That knighthood on thy shoulder laid; 0 CANTO v.] THE COMBAT. ^3^ For t'nat good deed, permit me then A word with these misguided men. XXVIII. ' Here, gentle friends ! ere yet for me, Ye break the bands of fealty. My life, my honour, and my cause, I tender free to Scotland's laws. Are these so weak as must require The aid of your misguided ire ? Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, Is then my selfish rage so strong, My sense of pubHc weal so low, That, for mean vengeance on a foe, Those cords of love I should unbind. Which knit my country and my kind ? Oh no ! Believe, in yonder tower It will not soothe my' captive hour. To know those spears our foes should dread, For me in kindred gore are red ; To know, in fruitless brawl begun, For me, that mother wails her son ; For me, that widow's mate expires ; For me, that orphans weep their sires ; That patriots mourn insulted laws. And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill. And keep your right to love me still ! ' XXIX. The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain. With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed For blessings on his generous head, Who for his country felt alone, And prized her blood beyond his own, Old men, upon the verge of life. Blessed him who stayed the civil strife ; And mothers held their babes on high, The self devoted Chief to spy. Triumphant over wrongs and ire, To whom the prattlers owed a sire • 32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto V. Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; As if behind some bier beloved, With trailing arms and drooping headj The Douglas up the hill he led, And at the Castle's battled verge, With sighs resigned his honoured charge. XXX. Tflie offended Monarch rode apart, With bitter thought and swelling heart, And would not now vouchsafe again Through Stirling streets to lead liis train. ' O Lennox, who would wish to rule This changeling crowd, this common fool? Hear'st thou,' he said, ' the loud acclaim With which they shout the Douglas name ? With like acclaim the vulgar throat Strained for King James their morning note ; With like acclaim they hailed the day. When first I broke the Douglas' sway; And like acclaim would Douglas greet, If he could hurl me from my seat. Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream ; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. Thou many-headed monster-thing, 0 who would wish to be thy King ! — XXXL But soft ! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 1 guess his cognizance afar — What from our cousin, John of Mar ? ' — 'He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound Within the safe and guarded ground : For some foul purpose yet unknown — Most sure for evil to the throne — The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Has summon ':d his rebellious crew ; Canto v.] THE COMBAT. ^33 'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid These loose banditti stand arrayed. The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, To break their muster marched, and soon Your grace will hear of battle fought ; But earnestly the Earl besought, Till, from such danger he provide, With scanty train you will not ride.' XXXII. * Thou v.-arn'st me I have done amiss — • I should have earlier looked to this : I lost it in this bustling day. — Retrace with speed thy former way. Spare not tor spoiling of thy steed, The best of mine shall be thy meed. Say to our faithful. Lord of ]Mar, We do forbid the intended war : Roderick, this morn, in single fight. Was made our prisoner by a knight; And Douglas hath himself and caustf Submitted to our kingdom's laws. The tidings of their leaders lost Will soon dissolve the mountain host. Nor would we that the vulgar feel, For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. Bear Mar our message, Braco ; fly ! ' — He turned his steed^,M.y liege, I hie — • Yet, ere I c ro s s ."t h i s 1 i 1 y 1<^v^Il\ I fear the b ro ad s wo rcl s w i iTb^ drawn.' The turf the flying courser spurned. And to his towers the King returned. XXXIiI. Ill with King James's mood that day, Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; Soon were dismissed the courtly throng, And soon cut short the festal song. Nor less upon the saddened town The evening sunk in sorrow down. The burghers spoke of civil jar, Of rumoured feuds and mountain war. 134 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto v. Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, All up in arms : — the Douglas too. They mourned him pent within the hold ' Whero stout Earl William was of old.' And th?ro his word the speaker staid, And finger on his lip he laid, Or pointed to his dagger blade. But jaded horsemen, from the west, At evening to the Castle pressed ; And busy talkers said they bore Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; At noon the deadly fray begun. And lasted till the set of sun. Thus giddy rumour shook the town, Till closed the Night her pennons br(?wn. THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO SIXTH. ®l)c (Snari:i-Hoom. I. 'H'^HE sun, awakening, through the smoky air J. Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, And warning student pale to leave his pen. And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of m.ea. What various scenes, and, O ! what scenes of woe, Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam ! The fevered patient, from his pallet low. Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam, The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream; The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. 135 136 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi IL At dawn the towers of Stirling rang With soldier-step and weapon-clang, While drums, with rolling note, foretell Relief to weary sentinel. Through narrow loop and casement barred The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air, Deadened the torches' yellow glare. In comfortless alliance shone The lights through arch of blackened stone, And shewed wild shapes in garb of war, Faces deformed with beard and scar, All haggard from the midnight watch, And fevered with the stern debauch ; For the oak table's massive board. Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown, Shewed in what sport the night had flown. Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; Some laboured still their thirst to quench ; Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands O'er the huge chimney's dying brands. While round them, or beside them flung, At every step their harness rung. in. These drew not for their fields the sword, Like tenants of a feudal lord. Nor owned the patriarchal claim, Of Chieftain in their leader's name ; Adventurers they, from far who roved, To live by battle, which they loved. There the Italian's clouded face. The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace : The mountaiu-loving Switzer there More freely breathed in mountain-air; The P^leming there despised the soil, That paid so ill the labourer's toil ; Their rolls shewed French and German name \ And merry England's exiles came, CANTO VI.] THE GUARD-i^OOM 137 To share, with ill-concealed disdain, Of Scotland's pay the scanty <:jain. All brave in arms, well trained to wield The heavy halberd, brand, and shield ; In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; In pillage fierce and uncontrolled ; And now, by liolytide and feast. From rules of discipHne released. IV. They held debate of bloody fray. Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. Fierce was their speech, and, 'mid their words, Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear Of wounded comrades groaning near, Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored, Bore token of the mountain sword. Though, neighbouring to the Court of Guard, Their prayers and feverish wails were heard : Sad burden to the ruffian joke, And savage oath by fury spoke ! — At length up started John of Brent, A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; A stranger to respect or fear, In peace a chaser of the deer, In host a hardy mutineer. But still the boldest of the crew. When deed of danger was to do. He grieved, that day, their games cut short, And marred the dicer's brawling sport, And shouted loud, ' Renew the bowl ! And, while a merry catch I troll. Let each the buxom cliorus bear. Like brethren of the brand and spear.' V. soldier's song. Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, 138 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack. And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor, Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar ! Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black tjo : Yet whoop, Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker. Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar! Our vicar thus preaches — and why should he not ? P'or the dues or his cure are the placket and pot ; And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch, Who infringe the domains of our goad Mother Churcl'. Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor. Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar ! VI. The warder's challenge, heard wilhout, Staid in mid-roar the merry shout. A soldier to the portal went — ' Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; And — beat for jubilee the drum ! A maid and minstrel with him come.' Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred. Was entering now the Court of Guard. A harper with him, and in plaid All muffled close, a mountain maid, Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. ' What news ? ' they roared : — ' I only know, From noon till eve we fought with foe, As wild and as untameable As the rude mountains where they dwell ; On both- sides store of blood is lost, Nor much success can either boast.' — • But whence thy captives, friend ? Such spoil As theirs must needs reward thy toil. Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp : 7'hou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! CANTO vi.J THE GUARD-ROOM. i3() Get thee an ape, and trudge the land. The leader of a juggler band.' VII. No, comrade; no such fortune mine. After the fight these sought our line, That aged harper and the girl, And, having audience of the Earl, • Mar bade I should purvey them steed, And bring them hitherward with speed. Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, For none shall do them shame or harm.' * Hear ye his boast ? ' cried John of Brent, Ever to strife and jangling bent ; ' Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, And yet the jealous niggard grudge To pay the forester his fee ? I'll have my share, howe'er it be, Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.' Bertram his forward step withstood-, And, burning in his vengeful mood, Old Allan, though unfit for strife, Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; But Ellen boldly stepped between, And dropped at once the tartan screen : T So, from his morning cloud, appears I The sun of May, through summer tears. The savage soldiery, amazed, As on descended angel gazed ; Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, Stood half admiring, half ashamed. VIII. Boldly she spoke — ' Soldiers, attend-, My father was the soldier's friend ; Cheered him in camps, in marches led. And with him in the battle bled. Not from the valiant, or the strong, Should exile's daughter suffer wrong.' Answered De Brent, most forward stiU In every feat or good or ill — 140 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto VL * I shame me of the part I played : And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! An outlaw I by forest laws, And merry Needwood knows the cause. Poor Rose — if Rose be living now,' He wiped his iron eye and brow, ' Must bear such age, I think, as thou. Hear ye, my mates ; — I go to call The Captain of our watch to hall : There lies my halbert on the Hoor ; And he that steps my halbert o'er, To do the maid injurious part. My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! — Beware loose speech, or jesting rough : Ye all know John de Brent. Enough.* IX. Their Captain came, a gallant young— (Of Tullibardine's house he sprung), Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; Gay was his mien, his humour light. And, though by courtesy controlled. Forward his speech, his bearing bold. The high-born maiden ill could brook The scanning of his curious look And dauntless eye ; — and yet, in sooth. Young Lewis was a generous youth ; But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 111 suited to the garb and scene, Might lightly bear construction strange, And give loose fancy scope to range. ' Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! Come ye to seek a champion's aid, On palfrey white, with harper hoar, Like errant damosel of yore ? Does thy high quest a knight require, Or may the venture suit a squire ?' — Her dark eye flashed ; — she ])aused and sigheii- *0 what have I to do with pride ! — — Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, A suppliant for a father's life, CANTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOM. 14.1 I crave an audience of the King. Behold, to back my suit, a ring, The royal pledge of grateful claims, Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James.' The signet-ring young Lewis took, With deep respect and altered look; And said — 'This ring our duties own ; And pardon, if to worth unknown. In semblance mean obscurely veiled, Lady, in aught my folly failed. Soon as the day flings wide his gates, The King shall know what suitor waits. Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower Repose you till his waking hour; Female attendance shall obey Your hest, for service or array. Permit I marshal you the way.' But, ere she followed, with the grace And open bounty of her race. She bade her slender purse be shared Among the soldiers of the guard. The rest with thanks their guerdon took ; But Brent, with shy and awkward look. On the reluctant maiden's hold Forced bluntly back the proffered gold ; * Forgive a haughty English heart, And O forget its ruder part ! The vacant purse shall be my share, Which in my barret-cap I'll bear Perchance in jeopardy of war, Wliere gayer crests may keep afar.* With thanks — 'twas all she could — the maid His rugged courtesy repaid. XI. When Ellen forth with Lewis went, Allan made suit to John of Brent: — ' My lady safe, O let your grace Give me to see my master's face ! 142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. His minstrel I — to share his doom Bound from the cradle to the tomb. Tenth in descent, since first my sires Waked for his noble house their lyres, Nor one of all the race was known But prized its weal above their own. With the Chief's birth begins our care ; Our harp must soothe the infant heir, Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace His earhest feat of field or chase ; In peace, in war, our rank we keep. We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, Nor leave him till we pour our verse — A doleful tribute ! — o'er his hearse. Then let me share his captive lot ; It is my right — deny it not ! ' — * Little we reck,' said John of Brent, ' We southern men, of long descent ; Nor wot we how a name — a word — IVIakes clansmen vassals to a lord : Yet kind m.y noble landlord's part. — God bless the house of Beaudesert ! And, but I loved to drive the deer. More than to guide the labouring steer, I had not dwelt an outcast here. Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see. ' XIL Then, from a rusted iron hook, A bunch of ponderous keys he took, Lighted a torch, and Allan led Through grated arch and passage dread. Portals they passed, where, deep within. Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din ; Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword, And many an hideous engine grim. For wrenching joint, and crushing limb, By artist formed, who deemed it shame And sin to give their work a name. CAKTO VI. J THE GUARD-ROOM. 145 They halted at a low-browed porch, And Brent to Allan gave the torch, While bolt and chain he backward rolled, And made the bar unhasp its hold. They entered : — 'twas a prison-room Of stern security and gloom, Yet not a dungeon ; for the day Through lofty gratings found its way, And rude and antique garniture Decked the sad walls and oaken floor ; Such as the rugged days of old Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. ' Here,' said De Brent, ' thou mayst remain Till the Leech visit him again. Strict is his charge, the warders tell, To tend the noble prisoner well.' Ketiring then the bolt he drew. And the lock's murmurs growled anew. Roused at the sound, from lowly bed A captive feebly raised his head ; The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew — Not his dear Lord, but Roderick Dhu ! For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought. xin. As the tall ship, whose lofty prore Shall never stem the billows more, -Oeserted by her gallant band. Amid the breakers lies astrand — So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu 1 And oft his fevered limbs he threw In toss abrupt, as when her sides Lie rocking in the advancing tides. That shake her frame with ceaseless beat. Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — O ! how unlike her course at sea ! Or his free step on hill and lea ! — Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, — ' What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? My mother? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! Have they been ruined in my fall ? 144 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ! Yet speak — speak boldly — do not fear.' — (For Allan, who his mood well knew, Was choked with grief and terror too.) — ' Who fought — who fled ? — Old man, be brief ;— Some might — for they had lost their Chief. Who basely live ? — who bravely died ? ' — ' O, calm thee, Chief ! ' the Minstrel cried, * Ellen is safe ; ' — ' For that thank Heaven ! ' * And hopes are for the Douglas given ; — The Lady Margaret too is well, And, for thy clan — on field or fell, Has never harp of minstrel told, Of combat fought so true and bold. Thy stately Pine is yet unbent. Though many a goodly bough is rent.' XIV. The Chieftain reared his form on high, And fever's fire was in his eye ; But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks Chequered his swarthy brow and checks. — ' Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, With measure bold, on festal day. In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er Shall harper play, or warrior hear ! . . . That stirring air that peals on high. O'er Dermid's race our victory. — Strike it ! — and then (for well thou canst), Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced, Fling me the picture of the fight, When met my clan the Saxon might. I'll listen, till my fancy hears The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, For the fair field of fighting men, And my free spirit burst away, As if it soared from battle-fray.' The trembling bard with awe obeyed — • Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; But soon remembrance of the sight He witnessed from the mountain's height. With what old Bertram told at night, CANTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOM. MS Awakened tlie full power of song, And bore him in career along ; — As shallop launched on river's tide, That slow and fearful leaves the side, But, when it feels the middle stream, Drives downward swift as lightning's Ixain, XV. BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE. * The minstrel came once more to view The eastern ridge of Benvenue, For, ere he parted, he would say Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — Where shall he find, in foreign land, So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! There is no breeze upon the fern, No ripple on the lake. Upon her eyry nods the erne. The deer has sought the brake , The small birds will not sing aloud, The springing trout lies still, So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud, That swathes, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance That on the thicket streams. Or do they flash on spear and lance The sun's retiring beams ? •—I see the dagger — crest of Mar, I see the Moray's silver star, Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war, That up the lake comes winding far ! To hero bound for battle-strife, Or bard of martial lay, 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life. One glance at their array ! 146 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vj XVL ' Their light-armed archers far and near Surveyed the tangled ground, Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, A twilight forest frowned, Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, The stern battalia crowned. No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang, Still were the pipe and drum ; Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, The sullen march was dumb. There breathed no wind their crests to shake Or wave their flags abroad ; Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake, That shadowed o'er their road. Their vanward scouts no tidings bring, Can rouse no lurking foe. Nor spy a trace of living thing. Save when they stirred the roe ; The host moves, like a deep-sea wave, Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. High-swelling, dark, and slow. The lake is passed, and now they gain A narrow and a broken plain, Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; And here the horse and spearmen pause. While, to explore the dangerous glen. Dive through the pass the archer-men. XVIL ' At once there rose so wild a yell Within that dark and narrow dell. As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, Had pealed the banner-cry of hell ! Forth from the pass in tumult driven, Like chaff before the wind of heaven, The archery appear : For life ! for life ! their plight they piy — And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry. And plaids and bonnets waving high. And broadswords flashing to th^ sky, Are maddening in the rear. CASTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOM. 147 Onward they drive, in dreadful race^ Pursuers and pursued ; Before that tide of flight and chase, How shall it keep its rooted place, The spearmen's twilight wood ? — " Down, down," cried Mar, " your lances down ! Bear back both friend and foe ! " Like reeds before the tempest's frown, That serried grove of lances brown At once lay levelled low ; And closely shouldering side to side, The bristling ranks the onset bide. *' We'll quell the savage mountaineer As their Tinchel cows the game ! They come as fleet as forest deer, We'll drive them back as tame." XVIII. ' Bearing before them, in their course, The relics of the archer force, Like wave with crest of sparkling foam. Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. Above the tide, each broadsword bright Was brandishing like beam of light, Each targe was dark below ; And with the ocean's mighty swing. When heaving to the tempest's wing, They hurled them on the foe. I heard the lance's shivering crash, As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; I heard the broadsword's deadly clang. As if an hundred anvils rang ! But Moray wheeled his rearward rank Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — " My banner-man, advance ! I see," he cried, " their column shake. Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake, Upon them with the lance ! " — The horsemen dashed among the rout, As deer break through the broom ; Their steeds are stout, their swords are ou(. They soon make lightsome room. 148 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne — = Where, where was Roderick then ! One blast upon his bugle-horn Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear The battle's tide was poured ; Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, Vanished the mountain sword. As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, Receives her roaring linn, As the dark caverns of ihe deep Suck the wild whirlpool in, So did the deep and darksome pass Devour the battle's mingled mass : None linger now upon the plain, Save those who ne'er shall fight again. XLX. Now westward rolls the battle's din, That deep and doubling pass within. — Minstrel, away! the work of fate Is bearing on : its issue wait, Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — Gray Benvenue I soon repassed. Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, The lowering scowl of heaven An inky hue of livid blue To the deep lake has given ; Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen. I heeded not the eddying surge. Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, Mine ear but heard the sullen sound. Which like an earthquake shook the ground, And spoke the stern and desperate strife That parts not but with parting life. Seeming, to minstrel-ear, to toll The dirge of many a passing soul. Nearer it comes — the dim-wood gler The martial flood disgorged agcii, LANTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOM. 149 But not in minified tide ; The plaided warriors of the North High on the mountain thunder forth And overhang its side ; While by the lake below appears The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. At weary bay each shattered band, Eyeing their foeman, sternly stand ! Their banners stream like tattered sail That flings its fragments to the gale, And broken arms and disarray Marked the fell havock of the day. XX. ' Viewing the mountain's ridge askance The Saxon stood in sullen trance, Till Moray pointed with his lance, And cried — ''Behold yon isle ! — See ! none are left to guard its strand, But women weak, that wring the hand ; 'Tis there of yore the robber band Their booty wont to pile ; — My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, And loose a shallop from the shore. Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, Lords of his mate, and brood, and den." Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, On earth his casque and corslet rung, He plunged him in the wave ; — All saw the deed — the purpose knew. And to their clamours Benvenue A mingled echo gave ; The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, The helpless females scream for fear. And yells for rage the mountaineer. 'Twas then, as by the outcry riven, Poured down at once the lowering heaven : A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, Her billows reared their snowy crest. Well for the swimmer swelled they high, To mar the Highland marksman's eyej t^o THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [CANtO vi. For round him sliowered, 'mid rain and hail, The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! His hand is on a shallop's bow. — Just then a flash of lightning came, It tinged the waves and strand with flame ;-- I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : — It darkened — but amid the moan Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — Another flash ! — the spearman floats A weltering corse beside the boats, And the stern Matron o'er him stood, Her hand and dagger streaming blood. XXI, * " Revenge ! revenge ! " the Saxons ciiedj The Gaels' exulting shout replied. Despite the elemental rage. Again they hurried to engage ; But, ere they closed in desperate fight, Bloody with spurring came a knight. Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in the Monarch's name, afar A herald's voice forbade the war. For Botliwell's lord, and Roderick bold, Were both, he said, in captive hold.' — But here the lay made sudden stand, The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand !— Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy : At first, the Chieftain, to the chime. With lifted hand, kept feeble time ; That motion ceased — yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the song ; At length, no more his deafened ear The minstrel melody can hear ; CANTO vi.j THL GUARD-ROOM. 151 His face grows sharp — his hands arc clenched As if some pang his licart-strings wrenched : Set are his teeth, liis fading eye Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu ! — Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, While grim and still his spirit passed ; But when he saw that life was tied, He poured his wailing o'er the dead. XXII. LAMENT. * And art thou cold and lowly laid, Thy foemen's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade ! For thee shall none a requiem say ? —For thee — who loved the minstrel's lay, For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, The shelter of her exiled line, E'en in this prison-house of thine, I'll wail for Alpine's honoured Pine ! ' What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill! What tears of burning rage shall thrill, When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, Thy fall before the race was won, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! There breathes not clansman of thy line, But would have given his life for thine. — A woe for Alpine's honoured Pine ! ' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — The captive thrush may brook the cage, The prisoned eagle dies for rage. Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! And, when its notes awake again, Even she, so long beloved in vain, Shall with my harp her voice combincy And mix her woe and tears with mine. To wail Clan-Alpine's honoured Pine.^ ^51 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [cuiTO vi XXIIL Kllen, the while, with bursting- heart, Rcir.ained in lordly bower apart, Wiiere played, with many-coloured gleams^ Through storied pane the rising beams. In vain on gilded roof they fall, And lightened up a tapestried wall, And for her use a menial train A rich collation spread in vain. Tiie banquet proud, the chamber gay. Scarce drew the curious glance astray; Or, if she looked, 'twas but to say. With better omen dawned the day In that lone isle, where waved on high The dun-deer's hide for canopy; Where oft her noble father shared The simple meal her care prepared, While Lufra, crouching by her side. Her station claimed with jealous pride, And Douglas, bent on woodland game. Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, Whose answer, oft at random made, The wandering of his thoughts betrayed.- Those who such simple joys have known. Are taught to prize them when they're gone. But sudden, see, she lifts her head ! The window seeks with cautious tread. What distant music has the power To win her in this v/oeful hour ! 'Twas from a turret that o'erhung Her latticed bower, the strain was e:ung. XXIV. LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMA?J ' My hawk is tired of perch and hood, My idle greyhound loathes his food, My horse is weary of his stall, And I am sick of captive thrall, 1 wish 1 were as I have been, . Hunting the hart in forest orreen, CANTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOiVI. '53 With bended bow and bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me. I hate to learn the ebb of time, From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, Inch after inch, along the wall. The lark was wont my matins ring. The sable rook my vespers sing ; These towers, although a king's they be. Have not a hall of joy for me. No more at dawning morn 1 rise, And sun myself in Ellen's eyes. Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend with evening dew; A blithesome welcome blithely meet, And lay my trophies at her feet, While fled the eve on wing of glee — That life is lost to love and me ! ' XXV. The heart-sick lay was hardly said, The list'ner had not turned her head. It trickled still, the starting tear, When light a footstep struck her ear. And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near,, She turned the hastier, lest again The prisoner should renew his strain. * O welcome, brave Fitz-James,' she said ; 'How may an almost orphan maid Pay the deep debt ' ' O say not so \ To me no gratitude you owe. Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, And bid thy noble father live ; I can be but thy guide, sweet maid, With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. No tyrant he, though ire and pride May lay his better mood aside. Come, Ellen, come \ — :'tis more than tim«, He holds his court at morning prime.' With beating heart, and bosom wrung, ;As to a brother's arm she clung. 154 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. [cANTO Vt. Gently he dried the falling tear, And gently whispered hope and cheer ; Her faltering steps half led, half staid, Through gallery fair and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. XXVL Within 'twas brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright; It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even, And from their tissue, fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing staid ; A few faint steps she forward made, Then slow her drooping head she raised, And fearful round the presence gazed. For him she sought, who owned this state, The dreaded prince whose will was fate !— She gazed on many a princely port. Might well have ruled a royal court.; On many a splendid garb she gazed — Then turned bewildered and amazed, For all stood bare ; and, in the room, Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. To him each lady's look was lent ; On him each courtier's eye was bent ; Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen. He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The centre of the glittering ring — And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King! XXVIL As wreath of snow, on mountain-breast. Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay. And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; CANTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOM. 155 No word her choking voice commands — She shewed the ring^— she clasped her hands. 0 ! not a moment could he brook, The generous prince, that suppliant look ! Gently he raised her — and, the while, Checked with a glance the circle's smile: Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, And bade her terrors be dismissed : — *Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims. To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; He will redeem his signet ring. Ask nought for Douglas ; — yester even, His prince and he have much forgiven : Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. We would not to the vulgar crowd Yield what they craved with clamour loud ; Calmly we heard and judged his cause, Our council aided, and our laws. 1 stanched thy father's death-feud stern, With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn, And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our Throne. — But, lovely infidel, how now? What clouds thy misbelievingbrow? Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; Thou must confirm this doubting maid.' XXVIIL Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. The monarch drank, that happy hour. The sweetest, holiest draught of Power- When it can say, with godlike voice. Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! Yet would not James the general eye On Nature's raptures long should pry; He stepped between — ' Nay, Douglas, nay. Steal not my proselyte away ! The riddle 'tis my right to read, That brought this happy chance to speed.— 156 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray In life's more low but happier way, 'Tis under name which veils my power, Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, And Normans call me James Fitz-James. Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause.' — Then, in a tone apart and low, — * Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, What vanity full dearly bought. Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, In dangerous hour, and all but gave Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive !' Aloud he spoke — ' Thou still dost hold That little talisman of gold. Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring — What seeks fair KUen of the King: ? ' XXIX. Full well the conscious maiden guessed, He probed the weakness of her breast ; But, with that consciousness, there came ' , A lightening of her fears for Graeme, And more she deemed the Monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire, Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; And, to her generous feeling true, She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. — ' Forbear thy suit : — The King of kin^ Alone can stay life's parting wrngs^ I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand : My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live ! — Hast thou no other boon to crave ? No other captive friend to save ? ' Blushing, she turned her from the King, ^ad to the Douglas gave the ring, CANTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOM. 157 As if she wished her sire to speak The suit that stained her glowing cheek. * Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course. Malcolm, come forth ! ' And, at the word, Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. ' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. Who, nurtured underneath our smile. Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, And sought, amid thy faithful clan, A refuge for an outlawed man, Dishonouring thus thy loyal name. — Fetters and warder for the.Grnsme ! ' His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Then gently drew the glittering band. And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark. On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending. With distant echo from the fold and lee. And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing 1 ce. Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp ! Yet. once again, forgive my feeble sway. And little reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay. Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way. Through secret woes the world has never known. When on the weary night dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. That I o'edive such woes. Enchantress ! is thine own. 158 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. Hark as my lingering footsteps slow retire, Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — And now, 'tis silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well I PREFACE A few words as to the nature of these Notes may be necessary. The writer's object was to combine with the ordinary explanatory notes a, literary criticism of the poem, based on the ordinary rules of the art of poetry and fiction. This was thought necessary, as the book is intended for students, who may reasonably be deemed anxious to know how to study a poem to the best ad van- tage ; and for this reason the critical Notes are made self- explanatory. All technical terms used are defined and explained, and most of them emphasized by italics. It was the writer's intention to add an introductory chapter embodying the chief features of poetic composition and the elements of literature ; but, dreading the increase in the size of the book, he has withheld it, and would merely refer the student to any text-book on rhetoric, especially Prof. Bain's excellent " Manual of Composition and 7?//^/- resent them in marble led to the wonderful excellence of Grecian sculi> ture. The JVaiads were nymphs of the rivers and lakes ; Oreads, of mountains; Dryads, oi woods, etc. The three Graces were, Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia. They presided over beauty and pleasure. The reference to the " elastic harebell "' has often done duty in such description ; it is one of those commonplaces of poetrj' that abound in Scott, They are really imitations from the classics — Ovid so sings of Atlanta, and Virgil of Camilla. There is an alliterative harmony in the last Imes. 19. — We have in this stanza qualities that endear Ellen to us; they finish the picture well, but we see little of them afterwards. The chief simile is poetical, and the allusion to her love enhances our interest and prepares for future events. In drawing his characters, Scott takes advan- tage of the latitude allowed in the ballad and romantic poetry gener- ally, and indulges in the idealizing process largely ; hence, he paints higher mental and moral qualities, greater beauty and fortune, than any- thing found in real life. 20. — Silent horn. Poetry being a fine art, operating by means of the sug- gested ideas of language, it seeks to be as vivid and concrete as possible. For this purpose abstract terms are avoided ; hence, instead of the abstract notion, silence of the horn,we have the concrete idea silent horn. " The rocks — loved."' The personal metapJior seeks to enhance the pleasure by representing iuajtimate nature as sympathizing with us in trouble or joy. In this case the rocks delight to re-echo the sweet sound. The sudden appearance of the stranger and Ellen's alarm arc well drawn. The last lines suggest the description that follows. 21. — Scott is happier in depicting the male character than the female. i68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto l By a few bold touches lie gives us here a well defined picture, but it is considerably idealized from the historical character of James V. The student will not fail to notice the poet's peculiarity of giving a fieiur- csqiie sketch of each person as he is introduced. He should also compare the picture of each, and classify their respective qualities. Their actions and sentiments throughout should haruiojiize with the sketches. Char- acters in fiction should be well defined, \i&\\s2csfaiiied ^r\d vat-ied, as well as natitral and consistent. The character here given of James V., resembles that given of James IV. in Marmion, v. 9. 22. — Of the hill is one of those phrases used to fill up the line, and make the rhyme. Such licenses are allowed in this poetry of Scott's, as it imitates the old minstrel poetry, but they were quite at variance with the poetry in vogue just before his time. But there is no justification for the grossly ungrammatical structure in the last four lines of the " courteous stranger's '' speech. 23. — The supernatural element is more allowable in ballad poetry and its imitations than in more regular poetry ; hence, the frequent use of it by Scott. Ellen's minuteness of description was prompted by Allan's vision, and though rather improbable under the circumstances, harmo- nizes with her frank, guileless nature, and affords an opportunity for completing the picture of the stranger's appearance by describing his hunting suit, which is that of the old ballads. Fair degree, not high degree, is used lest the reader should surmise who the stranger is. To produce the interest of plot the utmost care is re- quired to conceal the nature of the termination or denouement. 24. — The stranger lightly accepts the prophecy as one appointing him a knight-errant, wliose duty was to wander round, seeking to protect weak women. A true Inmtsman, though, would have taken his dogs into the boat ; perhaps this also is a characteristic negligence. Frequeni and until are not the words wanted. 26. — The description of the outside of the lodge is here given, each particular is shown, and the scene is gracefully changed to the inside. 2;. — This gives us the inside- of the lodge hung with trophies of war or the chase. The circumstance of the sword dropping is borrowed from old legends, and is used for jjoetic effect further on. 28.— The immense size of the sword reminds him of Douglas, but it would mar tlie story to mention him here. Ellen, in her answer, keeps up the idea that she is a " fay in fairy-land,"' and is protected by a giant as large as Ferragus' (from Orlando Furioso), or Ascabart (from Bevis of Hampton), two heroes of chivalry. 29. — V. 6. — Ellen treated the lady as her mother, though that rela- tionship did not exist between them ; she was Ellen's aunt. The allusion to Highland hospitality is pleasing. The rank and title now given mislead the readers as well as those in the story. CANTO I.J NOTES— THE CHASE. 169 Barren heritage. Owing to the iDower of the nobles, tlie royal power was weak. His sire had fallen. James IV. invaded England and perished with most of his nobles in the battle of Flodden Field. 30. — InnoCEHtly gay. A pleasing feature in Ellen. She still keeps up the allusion to fairy-land, and, innocent of all vanity, sings as tlie bird sings ; but \vc have still another surprise when Allan or some other viewless minstrel, '• filled up the symphony." 31. — Scott had great narrative powers, and "knew every wile" to gain our ear. To assist him in his story he adopted the tetrameter line with all the irregularity of the old minstrelsy ; and as an additional charm, he threw in many beautiful little songs, written in imitation of the ballad in various metres. The trochaic metre in this one adds a variety by the very change, and is bright and cheerful, but it is more usual to write such quieting songs in iambics, as that foot suits slow music. Perhaps, however, it is more in hartnoiiy with Ellen's assumed character of a fairy to have the metre most suitable for light, airy, rapid music. The song is very beautiful, as, indeed, are most of his lyrical pieces ; they breathe the intensity of Scott's own feelings. 32. — We have a prodigy in Ellen, who here appears in the new role of an improvising minstrel. This is rather improbable, even for romantic poetry, but such poetical power is, however, said to be found in South- ern Europe. Where the near sun Gives with unstinted boon ethereal flame, Where the rude villager, his labour done. In verse spontaneous chants some favourite name. — Scott. 33. — This dream is a good exam.ple of Scott's invention and descrip' Hon. It is finely imagined, and comes in nahirally after the excitement of the day. Dream» and omens should not be introduced without dx{e regard to the iniity of the story. This one could certainly be tolerated on account of its intrinsic beauty and fathetic force, but it also arouses our curiosity by throwing an air of mystery round the people of the island. It shadows forth the part Fitz-James takes in the story ; hints at his affection for, and estrangement from, the Douglas ; and, moreover, its fulfilment afterwards is an additional pleasure to the reader. It also gives a melancholy and thoughtful close to the canto, 34. — The dusky lustre of the flickering fire, dimly revealing the un- couth trophies and the huge sword to the awakened stranger, is well con- ceived. The sword naturally connects itself with the dream, and the stranger cannot banish the crowding thoughts. 35. — In the opening lines we have an exquisite moonlight view in fine contrast witli the troubled stranger, who seeks rest from its peaceful* ness, and ' Ht felt lis calm, that watriu'- i:;ucst.' 170 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto li. Then we are told that the brand he thought of was that of the Doug- las, that Ellen has the Douglas eye, and his dream has just been of the Douglas. Our curiosity is thus keenly aroused, and we long for the second canto. This is one of the expedients of narrators of stories, to keep the attention on the alert. One of the best exercises in composition is obtained by writing con- densed accounts of a work read. In this the merit consists in catching the chief objective points and making them prominent. Without a thorough acquaintance with the work, this is impossible ; hence, synop- ses are frequently asked for at examinations. In this canto the chief points are as follows ; their peculiarities have already been pointed out : — The introduction, the chase, the hunter's dilemma and the description of the country, the sudden appearance of the " Lady of the Lake," the personal portrait of Ellen and the huntsman, the lodge, the song and the cheam. We have now two of the characters introduced and described and a romantic and mysterious interest thrown round the people in the Island. CANTO n. The division into cantos serves to relieve the monotony, and adds to tlie definiteness and simplicity of the plan of narrative ; this effect is in- creased by limiting each canto to a day's performance. I. — The introductory stanzas give a picture of the departure of the stranger far more animated than any narration could give. 2. — The presence of white-haired Allan Bane gives a romantic interest to the story. His dreams, visions, forebodings, fidelity, and affection raise us out of our every-day thoughts, and take us back to the golden time of yore. The student should remember that it was Scott's ambition to be a minstrel. In the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," he himself is the minstrel playing to his feudal " chiefs," the Earl and Countess Dalkeith. Feudal fidelity was a religion with him. Imitating Coleridge, he makes use of a great variety of metre in the songs he throws in, which, of course, adds to tlic variety of tlie poem. Allan seems to surmise that the stranger is some great personage in disguise. His song shows that he is probably thinking of the exiled Douglas, and the want of gratitude in the King, though he merely makes a general statement in the simile suggested by the flashing of the oars. It must be remembered, how- ever, that it is a peculiarity of Scott's to draw a melancholy sentiment from his circumstances in nature. The metaphor in the third stanza is ver>^ fine, but, of course, not original. ^._The picture of the sad old Harper here is dra\\Ti with true poetic genius. The scenery is made to harmonize by putting in the nld ilighttd tree, and the calmness of the morning. It is one of thos« CANTO II.] NOTES— THE ISLAND. ly, happy strokes of itivent'wn that tlic true poet knows how and wlien to throw in. We will see that this quiet morning contrasts with the stirring events of the day, and the angry dispute in the evening. The death-like stillness is emphasized by the similitude to the dead, and by the aiiaphora. 5. — Note in this stanza that the poet, instead of narrating the cause of Ellen's smile, introduces vivacity by answering a supposed reason (prolepsis) by an interrogation, by an exclamatory appeal to fidelity, and finally by an appeal to the ladies, in the figure anacocnosis (i. e., an appeal to the common opinion of those addressed). 6. — We have here the beginning of the loc'e interest. It wovld \yt most powerful (as those concerned are the chief successftd characters) if it had been genuine and reciprocated ; but as it is neither, it chiefly serves to show the respective traits of the two persons : the stranger's hasty and Jic/cle love and iiifliicncc over the opposite sex, both historical, and Ellen's momentary affection, followed by a sudden burst that makes us aware of the trne loi-e of the lay. In her ingenuous self-accusation, true to her frank nature, she gives way to the revulsion of feeling, and for a moment forgets her maiden modesty, and immediately blushes at it. The love interest in the story is very tame. Both Roderick anrl Fitz-James sue for Ellen's hand; the former with a pierce, lasting love, but she rewards another — one who occupies a subordinate place in the story. This increases the difficulty of interesting us in the story considerably. 7. — It was customary in olden times to attribute supernatural power to weapons and harps. This, of course, heightened the interest in the marvellous stories that were told of them, if believed in ; and even if not, as in our time, it gives a pleasing fancy. Here, however, we must pay some attention to Allan's sadness. He has already proph- esied correctly, and we are filled with a vague alarm that increases as he proceeds, in spite of Ellen's cheerfulness. 0 well for me. Allan's devotion to the Douglas prompts this wish that the harp foretells evil only to himself. Saint Modan. An abbot of the lyth century. Though he was not known to have possessed musical powers, the allusion is probable, as many of the old ballads originated in the monasteries. S. — The whole conversation of these two, besides giving us a f leasing contrast between the gloomy foreboding of age, and the bright gaycty of youth, and preparing us for coming troubles, is intended to give us the story of the Douglas and his exile, preparatory to his introduction, and to show the contentment in which he and Ellen dwell. Thus we see the variety of interest sought to be created by the poet in this and following stanzas, viz. : (i.) The story itself, for these episodes belong to the main story, smce they concern one of the chief characters ; and here (2.) The narrative is abandoned for the dramatic effect of dialogue ; (3.) The awe-inspiring supernatural ; (4.) Tlie love and devotadness of Allan; (5.) The contrast of character , (6.) Ellen's happy ^ ionfi' ding, youthful nsXvxt^ filial love and high spirit. 172 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto IL 9. — The two fine similitudes here are bcautifi(l-»xv^ natural. 10. — As hermits. This shows that illustrative language is not always used on the principle of explaining the known by the unknown. It has but little effect here, requiring too much effort. The ititcnse affection of old Allan for Ellen is very pleasing. II. — We have in this stanza Sir Roderick mentioned for the first time. The unexpected turn at the end has the effect of wit^ though heavy. It is remarkable that Scott's humour never appears in his poems. 12. — The details of the terrible Roderick's life, and his connection with the Douglas, are given here by Allan, and liis evil deeds justify, for tlie time being, Ellen's rejection of him. It will be noticed, as we advance, that we are alternately attracted and repelled by this formidable chieftain. Dispensation. Needed here, as Ellen and Roderick were cousins, and could not wed without it. 13. — The inversion of some of the sentences here is awkward. The line, •' My blood, my life — but not my hand," is forcible, and has the effect of an epigram., i. e.. an apparent contradiction in the language. The spirited outburst of Ellen shows her to possess what is always admired in poetry, and other idealized compositions, viz. : an inalienable allegiance to the laws of true love. 14. — In ascertainii^g a character in fiction we must estimate properly the opinions of his associates ; here we have a vigorous picture of Roderick, given by Ellen, which justifies her antipathy to him. As it is a passionate outburst, figurative language will abound. We find antithesis, anapliora., simile., tnetonymy, inetap>/ior^a.n& zeugma (grant him wild). The metaphor and simile combined, in the lines referring to his vir- tues, are very striking. 15. — We now see why the sword fell on the stranger's entrance to the lodge. This supernatural power and origin are common properties of the swords of old romantic heroes, e. g., King Arthur's " Excalibur," the Cid's " Tizo,'' and Hrolf Kraka's " Skofnung." It is also as old as Homer. Tineman. Unlucky man. Archibald, 3d Earl of Douglas, defeated at Homildon Hill l)y Hotspur ; killed in France, 1424. — Scott. Tina is an old verb, meaning to lose, Cf. " Better tyne liife since tint is good fame." — Scott. Self-unscabbarded is an awkward compound, and may have been prompted by Scott's familiarity with German. The event referred to IS the battle of Shrewsbury. Spears and bows are used by metonymy for soldiers. Roderick's jealousy is liere referred to, further exhibition of which w« aro soon to see. LANtoii-i NOTES— THE ISLAND. 173 16.^ — The quiet sccno is now broken into by the sudden appearance of the chieftain and Iiis warriors. Their gradual approach is t(ivcn in a few words. The gay scene is proud with " all the pomp and circum- stance of war." 17. The highland pibroch is here described. This old martial music represented the various phases of the fight, and the poet, in describing it in these lines, makes use of the harmony of langjiagc — that is, makes the sound an echo of the sense. For the soft notes heard in the distance we have liquids and slender vowels, as in vtello-wed, eame, iuigcring long, I'ay, wailed, away ; for rapidity we have, rapid, * iJiiek beat^ bat- tered tread ; for the sound of battle, cry, shriek, ward, jarred, groan- ing, ' moan prolonged and lo-w.^ All these show harmony, but there is not much care taken to produce it by a skilful selection and arrange- ment of words ; Scott's stvle was too hurried, and his ear too dull for that. 19. — Roderick certainly comes on the stage with great eclat, and we feel that in him we are to recognize the chief figure of the story. The " mar- tial ditty " is the " gathering," and is in harmony with the " wild cadence ; " its irregular metre, wild, half gaelic chorus, and fierce senti- ments, are in uncouth harmony with the character of Roderick Dhu. The lines are dactylic, of various length, with double rhyme on the ist and 3d lines, made by dropping the last syllable of the dactyl ; the 2d and 4th lines have only one syllable of the fourth foot. In the second stanza the rhythm is made continuous by completing the last foot of each line by unaccented syllables at the beginning of the next. This, prob- ably, imitates the regular "marching on." The emphatic words are generally placed properly at the beginning ; and "throughout, there is ithe vigorous exultation of victory. The " ho ! ieroe " at the end are probably of the class of meaningless syllables that are frequently found in old ballads and songs, and serve as a sort of symphony or accom- paniment to the song. The pleasure derived from such sounds arises from the attention being directed to the mere music, apart from the thought, thus giving a pleasing variety. 20. — The evergreen pine was on the crest of Vich Alpine. The rosebud is Ellen. 21. — Scott always shows skill in conducting the narrative. Having with him gazed on the romantic and picturesque scene of the approach- ing host, and listened to the spirit-stirring song, it would be difficult to interest us in further details, and he seeks other means of doing so. The women flocking down with "loose tresses," "bare arms,'* and "shrill acclaim," fill out the picture, and give us an interesting circumstance in old Celtic manners. We are reminded of Roderick's loz'e, and made to share in Ellen's perplexity — and, by one of those unexpected, lucky coincidences for which Scott always shows a weakness, we, as well as she, are agreeably surprised by the approach of her father; and, although our curiosity is on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the strangely heralded, terrible Roderick, we arc luirried off to meet the Douglas, in whom wt have as yet a deeper interest. 174 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto it 22, — Parental and filial affection are only less powerful than sexual love, and representations of these are always pleasing in fiction. It is here very affectingly exhibited in these two exiles entirely devoted to each other ; in Ellen especially it char - us. The opening lines are noble, though defaced by the atrociou- 'steeped" and " weeped." Ellen, moreover, is guilty of -i. poetic f anil m not noticing the presence of her lover first ; but the bashfulness of Malcolm is a natural touch. 23, — The object of this stanza is to remind us of the former greatness of the Douglas, and to show us his present cojitcntvicnt and happiness in the increased affection of his daughter and minstrel. It is characteristic of the faithful old Allan to be filled with sad re- flections at the comparison of the present position of Douglas and Rod- erick. We would not expect the Douglas to boast of his former great- ness, andwe feel that his allusion to it is only a poetic expedient to em- phasize his resignation and reciprocal affection, which are alwaj's pre- ferred in poetry to worldly greatness, since they are qualities we like to contemplate. The while is a Scotticism. Spray is here a weak word, used ^ for the sake of rhyme. Twice ten. Poetry often thus divides a number into two or more parts for greater effect. Cf. " Four times fifty living souls."— Wwc/Vw/' Mari?ier. Percy's. This may refer to the battle of Ciievy-Chase, 13S8. Dut this Douglas is not an historical character ; he is the imaginary uncle of the Earl of Angus. Name — put for the owner, by jtidonymy. Cf. " The dreaded name of Demogorgon.'' — Milton, P. L. Waned crescent. This refers to the Percies, as a silver crescent was in tlieir coat of arms. Cf. " The blodye Harte in the Douglas armes His standarde stode on hye ; That everj' man inyght full well knowe : By syde stode Starres (stars) thre. " The whyte Lyon on the Ynglyshe parte For soth as I you sayne ; The Liicetts and the Cressaunts both : The Skotts fought them agayne." —Percy's Relkjues, Batt. Oitcrhume. Out beggars is an awkward word. Out is merely intensive = make my former position a beggar compared with my present one. =4. — This is a graceful stanza, full of natural, well-invented circum- stances ; — Ellen's delight — illustrated by a beautiful simile — her efforts to hide it, the natural conduct of the animals, the /icturcs — " Lively, ardent, frank and kind," "blithe heart," "His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth." These are qualities that show an unselfish TunAirici/i/ul mind. We (ike to meet with such in the world, but they are rarely found, and their very rarity increases their effect in fiction as a compensation for the cold, sclfisli world. Hence such qualities always succeed in poetry over the sterner virtues or severe calculation. This belongs to the cdealizing process of poetry and fiction. 25. — We have now the personnel oi the poem all introduced and characterized. We are ready for further developments, and as all are evidently going to meet on the Isle, we may expect something startling. And why? Of course we know what she would have said. The effect is deepened by the omission: this rhetorical figure is called afo- sio/>cs!S, in which the sentence is left unfinished, owing to some deep emotion. Douglas' fondness for hunting, as his sole remaining pleasure, increases our interest in him, by awakening the pity we naturally feel for fallen greatness. Malcolm's generous conduct is further explained. Royal ward — hence he risked " life and land " by aiding an outlaw, and we find him afterwards imprisoned for it. Not unpursued. This is a slight affirmative, as one negative denies the denial of the other. Here it is used for rhetorical effect, as in such phrases as '' He is no fool.'' The figure is called litotes. 27. — Reddened is an ill-fomied and an incorrect word to express the effect of jealousy. Roderick's hospitality was not dictated by kindness or by any nobility of nature, but by the custom of the clan, and perhaps by courtesy to Douglas and Ellen. His imperious nature is shown in his self-command, in his gathering all around the fire, even Ellen, in his curt speech, and long self-com- munion. From this group Wwii, picturesquely collected around the fire, the plot begins to develop itself. Roderick's mistake is the key-note to all. This stanza also creates a greater interest in Roderick, and reminds us of the misdeeds of James, who, in his attempt to reduce the border chieftains to his authority, actually perjictrated these atrocities. In 1529, James V. swept Ettrick Forest and the border region with io,ooa men under the pretence of a hunting expedition. During his progress he hanged manv of the leaders of these lawless clans. Among the most noted were Piers Cockburn, Adam Scott, and John Armstrong. He took possession of a large district and had it farmed for himself. Counsel is governed by giV3, or some such word omitted, but the line is somewhat ambiguous. 29. — While Douglas is hesitating, the poet points out the fears of the Yarious personages. Douglas decides to depart, and advises Roderick to submit, showing us that, though protected by Roderick, he does not sympathize with hixu. XyS THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto li Homage is here used literally. It was a ceremony by which a tenant acknowledged himself to be the lord's "man " (homo). Mountain — moor. These are mere phrases, their use being allowable in ballad poetry. Cf., also, " tower and town," " on the hill," " hall and bower.'' 30. — Roderick's " blunt '' proposal is characteristic^ and in hisardoui he displays i^ficrceitess^Xi-dX frightens Ellen, and justifies her in refusing him. But his savage t/ircat is in keeping with the vindictive nature of the Highland character. 31. — The long comparison here leaves us too long in doubt as to what is coming, but it is, perhaps, in imitation of Ellen's amazement. 32. — Douglas shows his unwavering loyalty to, and fottdness for, the king, whom he only accuses of hasty wrath, caused by slanderous tongues. This interrupted friendship and its renexval at the close is one of the main threads in the plot. Enough, enough. The cpizcuxis here has not much rhetorical force, merely indicating haste. Hectic is a technical word become popularized with a limited mean- ing. It is properly an habitual disease (Greek hexis, habit), then habit- ual or intermittent fever, then the fltcsh of fever, and ultimately any flush. 33. — The opening simile is rather vague. The convulsive sobbing of Roderick is quite in keeping with his passionate nature, and we are made to sympathize witli him along with " eyes tliat mocked at tears before." We feel the indiscretion of Graeme's conduct, and yet it if most natitral, and hence interesting. Nighted. Cf. " Nighted life.'' — King Lear. Verbs from nouns simply, are frequent in poetry. 34. — K powerful stanza; the various characteristics of llie men are kept up. The fierce and hasty jealousy of Roderick is well shown, and it is a happy invention to restrain by " this roof, the Douglas, and that maid," the undaunted chief who slew a knight in the very presence of the king. Minion, Fr. 7nignon, a pet. Ger. minne, love. Cf. Mac- beth, the "minions of their race." But like all favourites, it has fallen into contempt, and now means a flatterer, a servile follower. 35. — The scornful sarcasm of Roderick and his haughty defiance of "James Stuart" come in opportunely, when he speaks from wounded vanity, ■AXidi to his successful rival. Note that it is "Roderick" and "James Stuart," he says. Malcolm's defiance of Roderick and abrupt departure terminate the unseemly quarrel. Nay. We have here the figure aposiopesis. Find an hour. This threat contains more than is cxiDressed. Hour is a species of metonymy. Henchman, a servant. Perhaps so called because he stood at his haunch. 0 CANTO III.] NOTES— I HE GATHERING. 177 :^6. — To the wind, i.e., uttered. An unusual meaning of the phrase. 37. — Give the rest to air is a similar phrase. Both are weak. Dare, aposio/csis : he was evidently thinking of Ellen. Malcolm proposes to find a shelter for Dou'^las and Ellen among his own cl.^n, though con- trary to law. And Roderick has decided to raise his clan, so that we have enough to stimulate our curiosity as to the next canto. CANTO III. I. — The opening sentence constitutes a truism., i. c, the sententious expression of a well known truth in concise language. Its repetition at the end is pleasing, and constitutes the figure cpaualcpsis ; the con- templation of the ceaseless course of time is pleasing to us, as it is asso- ciated with the grandeur of eternity and the vague terrors of death. Thsre is a melancholy shade thrown over the whole stanza, which, to- gether with the wondering boyhood and beautiful simile, fills the stanza witli the very essence of poetic feeling and imagination. Infancy being abstract, is not a happv word, as poetry seeks chiefly to give pleasure, and h^nce avoids any difficult abstract ideas. The second stanza con- nects the thnus^ht with the subject of the canto. Field, etc. Tliese words form a metonyviy, place for people. Yet live there who. A latinism frequently used in poetry. Cf. Lat. siuit qui. What time. Adverbial obj. of time = a relative adverb. Kindred, i. pathy on the side of the gloomy chief. 26. — Another wild scene well painted. The subject, the description, the circumstances, and the illustrations, aim at arousing our terror, and in this respect approach the sitblimc. The place is made purposely terrible in order to arouse owx pity for Ellen. Blast. Cf. •' And blasted with excess of light." — Gray on Milton. 27. — Another picturesque group, wild and warlike, and in full har- mony with the mountain scenery. It is a constant characteristic of Scott to hnrmonize tints scenery and incident. It is one of the re- quirements i-{ foctie description, though, in this respect, it nms counter to the other rule, /. e., fidelity to nature, to which, however, it is clearly superior in a romantic poem like this. 2S. — -'Was lingering," by representing the act as going on at pres- ent, calls up a mental image, and thus adds to the reality of the scene. The terrible resolve, the fierce, constant love, the impatience, and the pride of Roderick, are all in hcepiiig 7vith his character, i. e., just what we would expect him to do, and hence pleasing on that account, though more interesting as part of the story. The latter part of the stanza is weak. 29. — A devotional song, tender and effective. It is intended to show Ellen's calm, trustful, and resigned nature, although banished, outcast, and reviled, and in a dismal cave of such m)-sterious terror. 30.— Our sympathy is now entirely with the spell-bound chieftain in his great grief, Roderick's anxious care gained our respect, and now, his iiovering near his lost treasure, his pride in not visiting her, his long entranced oblivion, and his impassioned, but too true forebodings — all enlist us on his side. His words come true, but not as he intended. This is sometimes called /t'tri'/V irony ; there is an example of it in Macbeth. u. — The clansmen when lying were scarce to be known from the Hither, and this prepares us for a noted scene in Caato v. :82 THE LADY OF TME LAKE, [caxtu iV. CAXTO IV. I. — The double simile of the rose in this stanza is a pleasing fancy, and it is enhanced by putting it in the mouth of Norman, as he takes the rose as the emblem of hope and love. The conversation is interest- ing and condensed ; it abounds in peculiar expressions as, " band of war," " boime "' (ready), ** the while " (mannerism), " cloud " (metr.), " bout " (turn), " plaid " (for warrior in his plaid). 2. — The object of bringing these two on the stage here is to give us many details which would be tedious in a narrative. 4. — The interruption of Malise to describe the bull is a natural turn in the dialogue. It is one of those " asides '' that are occasionally thrown in with great effect. We share in the clansman's joyful recol- lection of their raid ; but, perhaps, his description is to show us the sur- passing excellence of this animal thus sacrificed. This would be after the manner of the ancients. The incident here retailed is taken from the tradition of Rob Roy. Kernes are light soldiers. Cf. " Of Kerns and Gallowglasses is sujiplied." — I\Iacl'eth. 5. — Norman's comparison of the hermit to a ghost or a raven causes us to share in the gloomy forebodings it implies ; but Malise refuses to believe it, thus reminding us of the reverence in which the clan chief was held. Broke. Cut up, a common word in the old cJiasc. The raven comes from the same source. 6. — We feel but little terror at the " fearful strife " related by the Hermit. In spite of the terrible mystery thrown around his birth and actions, his presence adds but little interest to the poem, other than that which we take in such quaint f)ld rites. We see now the utility of Brian's mysterious birth : no mortal could have endured that terrible night ; even Brian did it only, in the extreme danger of the clan to which he owed his only human tie. The Prophecy is thus surrounded by all the solemnity and awe be- coming so mf)mentous a comnumication from the spiritual world. This sentiment, represented here as the response of the Taghairm, was really a superstitious belief, frequently acted upon by the highlanders, as at the battle of Tippermoor, where they murdered a defenceless shepherd in order to ensure victory. 7.— The device of leading a single spy into ambush is not very happy. It is, however, the cause of many thrilling incidents. Roderick evidently knew all about his movements ; but when we afterwards learn tliat it is Fitz-James who has come Ijack to see Ellen, Wc sec that Roderick was mistaken in considering him a spy. We are CANTO iv.j Motes— THE i^rophecy, 183 not satisfied with this cruel charge of Roderick's,- even against a spy, and Ixjgin to waver in our allegiance to him. Note that Murdock had charge to lead him into ambush before the response was known. S. — Here we have the " stern joy" of the Warrior at approaching con- flict well shown ; but we are at a loss to know why Moray and Mar are advancing on Roderick, nor do we learn till near the end of the fifth canto, when we find that it was owing to a second misunderstanding. Rod- erick collects his clan in defence against a supposed aggression on the part of the king. And the royal troops march northward to prevent a supposed aggr :ss' ve movement by Roderick. But why, etc. This brings us back to Roderick's hopeless love, of which he is reminded by the •nention of lover and maid ; his words are to show us that it was not the tear of doubt or fear. The effect is rather weak, he himself being the speaker. The sudden, abrupt command is stariling. The next three lines form a triplet, and are written to imitate the regular movement of the music and marching, which is done by balancing one phrase against the otiier. Tliis use of the balanced stritcturc to produce /ia)-ino7iy\s- rare. We leave the clansmen suddenly, just as we are quite anxious to- follow them, — a common trick of narrators when wishing to bring up a- scparate stream in the story. 9. — The story now turns to Ellen. Here we find that the Douglas has mysteriously disappeared, and we feel that we are to believe Ellen's view, that he has gone to surrender himself to the king. The terror in '• Clan Alpine's rugged swarm '' prepares us for somes evil to come. 10. — Douglas. Ellen never says " father," it is always " the Doug' las." The effect is Iiars/i, and consequently zvcak, though probably in- tended to give us a loftier opinion of Douglas' true position, as in thus giving him his title she uses court etiquette. It is, however, quite in keeping with Scott's own disposition. Redden. Scott's heroes all redden on any sudden emotion. Critics all admit his inability to portray the workings of the mind. He is not jt poet of thought and reflection. Fetters. This dream, like all dreams in a work of art, must come trne^ which we find to be the case ; though Allan probably would interpret them as fetters of love. Note Ellen's close sympathy with her fatherl- and her high spirit. II. — This stanza reminds us of Allan's power to foretell events, and hence we believe yet that all will be well with Ellen. 12. — This is a refitting of an old ballad, and is a fair specimer. of that species of composition. The metre, spirit, quaintness, and abrupt narrative, are all admirably caught by the poet. Its presence here is very significant, reminding us that this was the period when the rage for old poetry was at its height. (See Introduction.) "Mavis" (thrush), from Fr. maut'is, Lat. malinn ritis, evil to vinefl, •* merle" (black-bird), from Latin meru/a, "wold" (field), "pall'* x84 THK LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto iv. (rich cloth — pelHs-palUlim), " vest " (garment), " vair " (squirrel skin)t Lat. rarhis. These were all common words in the old ballads, and are adopted from the original. Pall is the old A.S. fo'-m of Lat. pallium. Cf. " And some of ihem were clad in greene, And others were clad in pall j And there came in my lord I'arnarde's wife The fairest among them all." — Percy's Reliques. The common verse of the ballad is the quatrain of alternate tetra- meters and trimeters rhyming with each other ; but here the metre is purposely varied to imitate the irregularity of the old metre. In the first and third lines there is, in some of the verses, a double rhyme. The tetrameters, generally, have mid rhyme. The quaintness is increased by the use of obsolete words and phrases. 1.6. — Allan's fairy tale has no sooner soothed us than we are again sur- prised by the sudden appearance of Fitz-James. Roderick must have known of Fitz-James' intended return, and this would explain his anxiety about the western approach, dreading danger to the Douglas. 17. — Fitz-James treats her rather cavalierly, but it is quite in keepmg with his character as sketched in the first canto. Ellen's frankness, mod- esty and tender conscience are charming, but the poet gave himself a difficult task when he mixes up dialogue and soliloquy, yet there was no other way of telling us the struggle going on in her mind. If yet he is. An example of cfaitorf/iosis, i.e., questioning the truth of a statement just made. It is generally a short exclamation, and is much more forcible than a regular qualifying statement could be. There is also in this phrase the figure afttanaclases, i.c., the use of a word in two different senses, as the word is, in these two lines. True to maiden modesty, Ellen confesses her love only as a last resource. t8. Hope vanished, etc. Fitz-James is the very o/fositc of Roderick in love. The latter could not thus have given up his passion, but fickleness is one of the failings given to Fitz-James. We admire, how ever this first generous act of his in offering to protect her ; an offef which Ellen dare not accept. James V. bore some resemblance to his successor, Charles II., in possessing wit and libertinism, though Scott assigns a nobler aim to his incognito adventures. James is popularly believed to be the author of two ballads celebrating these adventures. They are, " The Gabcr- lunzie Man" and " TheTollv Beggar," or " We'll gae na mare a rov- ing,'' the former of which Percy has in his " Reliques." The first Stanza is as follows : — "The panky an>d Carle came over the lee \Vi' mony poodeens aiul days to mee, Savinc rToodwife, for zour courtesie, Will le lodge a silly poor man 1 CANTO IV.] NOTES— THE PROPHECY. 185 The niglit was cau!d, the Carle was wat, And down azout the ingle he sat ; My dochter's shoulders he gan to clap, And cadgily (merrily) ranted and sanp;." 19. — The rincj is often used in old writers as a means of unfold in c: the plot. We find, afterwards, that it leads to thci/r /nu/cmcf if, a.nd then we see that Fitz-James is really the deliverer of Ellen and the Douglas in almost as surprising a manner as the two exiles in Allan's fairy ballad. Hence we seethe double object in the ballad — (i.) As a specimen of ^.he old ballads; and (2.) As a prophetic forecast of the ultimate triumph of right over wrong. Indeed, it is no sooner ended than the deliverer appears. His words are intended to mislead, lest we might guess from his having the king's ring that he was more than a mere knight. 20. — Murdock's treacherous shout and the ominous accident of com- ing upon the dead steed, are means taken to awaken our fear. We see Fitz-James' rasJuicss in still trusting his guide, but as yet he had not realized his danger, for his sudilcii love was so overpowering, that he did not catch the full import of Ellen's warning. 23. — As an episode, there is, probably, too much prominence and space given to this story of Blanche, and there is something iiiuiaixiral in giving her so prominent a place, by making her the means of warn- ing Fitz-James, and in giving her the gift of prophecy. The whole cir- cumstances -AX t painful in the extreme, and awaken the deepest /^zMf.?. Its twofold object is to turn us against Roderick, and to warn James, to whom it also gives an additional interest as her avenger. It reconciles us to Roderick's death, and acts as a real cause for fighting in the combat. Prophecy and prophetic dreams abound in this canto — (i.) Allan dreams of the Graeme in fetters, and foretells Ellen's happiness ; (2.) Blanche foretells Murdock's death and her own ; and (3.) The Tag- hairm itself. 25. — This stanza is metaphorical. Fitz-James is the full grown stag, " stag of ten " (horns), and she the " doe." 26. — Note the skill shown in the management of the story. Blanche's wretched condition was not enough to move us sufficiently ; she must die, but to murder her purposely would have been too Jiorriblc ; it is done accidentally. In the excitement of the chase the narrative is dropped, and the author cries out to the combatants as if they were actually before us. 27. — The poor girl, partly restored to reason, in her dying moments warns James against Roderick Dim. Her helplessness, her terrible in- juries, her treasured lock of her lover's hair and her tragic death, are all exceedingly affecting. We no longer sympathize with Roderick. We hate him for his cruelty, and look with increased interest on Fitz, i86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto v. James, who is become her avenger, to mete out foctic Justice on the cruel marauder. Scott probably borrowed the main idea of this ballad ir.Qra the " Braes of Yarrow/' in Percy's Rchqiics. Cf. " How can I busk a bopny bonny bride? How can I busk a winsome marrow? How love him upon the Tweed, That slew my love on the Braes of Yarrow ? '' '•' The boy put on his robes, his robe=. of green, His purple vest, 'twas my own sewing; Ah wretched me, I little kenned He was in these to meet his ruin." zS. — Soliloquies are generally weak in fiction, unless short, and show- ing some naturally occurring mental perturbation. Here, of course, it is necessary. A favour was a token of love, given by ladies to their knights to wear as a badge. This frantic feat, etc. Notice the grammar of this couplet. 29. — A few suggestive particulars are given to picture the approach of evening, then the narrative is resumed. 30. — This sudden appearance of the mountaineer is well conceived. The wliole stanza is bold, rapid and concise. \Ye admire the unflinch- ing bravery of Fitz-James ; it is that romantic thoughtless bravery, of the age of chivalry, but its very thoughtlessness charms us. Under the circumstances, he might be pardoned some selfish calculation, but such would detract from the foctic effect. We have already learned why Roderick lies apart thus from his clan. (See iv. 4 and 5.) The problem before the poet was to provide a pri- vate meeting between Roderick and Fitz-James, and the Taghairm afforded an opportunity of placing Roderick apart from his guards in a " misty glade," where the " spy " suddenly comes upon him. One event is thus made to give rise naturally to another, — a consideration of the greatest importance in fiction. 31. — The conduct of the two men here is the very essence of poetic martial faith, and when we learn that the lone sleeper is Roderick, we again begin to respect him. This martial faith belongs to the time of chivalry, with the spirit of which Scott was completely in unison. CANTO V. The Spcn:-,crian stanzas of this poem are so beautiful, that one would wish the whole poem had been written in them ; but their artistic grace and careful rhythm cUd not suit the "galloping pace " of Scott's narra- tion. The iambic pentameter is best suited for the various manipulations to which language is subjected in poetry, and hence has long l^een the favourite metre in literature ; but Scott maintained, perhaps justly, that CANTO v.] NOTES—THE COMBAT. 187 the pentameter was unnatural, beinj too long by two syllables, and that English poetry was most readily written in tetrameters, the poet, in fact, having to employ some unnecessary or ornamental term for the extra foot of the pentameter, as in the following couplet :— " Achilles' wrath to Greece the ^/>-ivcrted epithet. It is a remnant of the old use of brave in romance poetry, with its original meaning — bright coloured. Save as, etc. Supply " that I knew him ; " this will make a noun sentence obj. of save, and the whole will be adverbial to " knew ; " man and chief ■^grce in case with him, to which they are connected by as, an adv. conjunction. Care must Idc taken in supplying the ellipsis to govern these words as " him " is governed. Nought — Ne-aught = naught — and should be so spelled. Guard is tlie French form of the word ; ward is the English form. •Compare, also, warder, guardian ; wile, guile ; wise, guise ; war, guerre. These words are different forms of the same Teutonic roots. 6. — One object of this arraignment is evidently to give Roderick an opportunity of vindicating his character from these stains that Ellen, Allan, Malcolm, and now Fitz-James accuse him of. His indignant justi- fication of liimself following after his great troubles, and his chivalrous treatment of Fitz-James, are well able to enlist our feelings once more for him. This, of course, adds powerfully to the interest in the contest Jn which he, owinj to his own generosity, is defeated, CANTO v.] NOTES— THE COMBAT. 191 Wrothfui, more commonly u^athfid. When an adj. is thus placed first for emphasis, it should refer to the subject or object, but the con- struction is changed here so as to make some quality of clansman (scowl ) the subject. This construction is liable to ambiguity, but it is frequently used. That (a) shameful, etc. This shows the ambiguity that sometimes arises from the omission of the article. What. An adverbial object of degree. If he Stood, etc. A substantive clause, "if" — "whether." His due, i.e., proper authority of a sovereign ; the office or title (sovereignty) is here used for the person hs metonymy. The turbu- lency of the times is mentioned further to excuse Roderick. (Sec ex- planatory notes.) Mewed (Lat. muto). A hawking term = to shut up while moulting. Hence, to shut up as in a cage. But then. Generally used to introduce some modification to a pro- vious concession ; the sentence is exclamatory. Whining and wrcftch- i?!g are in apposition with life. Methinks. The construction here is : — A soul .... borne thinks (to) me: the noun sentence is the subject; thinks is intransitive. A. S. thynean, to seem. Think, to reason, is from A. S. thincan, to thfnk. 7, — There is a sort of poetic justice in the Highland raids on the Lowland usurpers that justifies, in poetry, Roderick's conduct. This is the most powerful as well as the most foetic portion of h.s defence. T\\(i fact ic interest \?> -prodnced by various means. A picture is drawn before our ''delighted eye" and maintained throughout by such word.>i as '"yon mountain,'' "yon river," "see rudely swell," " yon plain."' Metaphors abound, "iron hand," "savage hill," "fortress," "heir." Erotcsis, "where dwell we now." Ana/hora, "ask we, etc." Per^ sonijieation, in the reply of the mountain. Metonymy and Hy/er- bole, "ten thousand.'' Anaeoenosis, "thinkest thou," and "where live, etc." Tliere is also a vigour in the senti?nents and patriotism of Roderick that gives animation to his words. Grim the while. Grim (ly) is here an adverb; the adj. form is used in poetry for its brevity, its poetic effect by being removed from the prose form, and its sensuous effect, since adjs. approach the noun in merxi- ing more nearly than the adverb The while is an adverbial object, rarely so used now but by tlie Scotch. May = can, its old meaning, yet used in poetry on account of its quaint)icss. One. Individual or head, not herd. Shall. As the resolution of the subject is here meant and not con- straint , shall \s improperly used for -will — a frequent mistake in Scott. North, The capital is thus used when, by metonymy, the direction is i^ut for the inhabitants or district. Yonder. Yon, as number, chamber ; sound, land, etc. Stranger. I-at. extra, out, beyond. We have the direct Latin word extraneous, and the French strange, a corruption of it. The g \x\ •trange is oldy, which is another form ol i =^ e in cons. .^2 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto v. Sires. Fr. sire, sicur. L. senior, comix of scnex, old. Other forms of it are, sir, seigneur, signor, messieurs. Yore. Noun cognate with ere and year. Target and claymore. The Gaelic words = a hide and a great sword. Rest. I., rc-sto, to stand ; the A. S. {rast) rest = relaxation. Robber. Cognate with rap, reave, rive, and rove. A double con- sonant in the middle of a word in English has always indicated a short preceding vowel. The same is true to some extent in other parts of a word. The antiquity of tliis orthographical expedient is shown by the spelling of the (9r;w«/2/;w, the writer of which recommends its gen, cral adoption. It has given us- our chief rule for spelling, i.e., doubling the consonant to preserve the short sound of the vowel. " 8. — Fitz-James' last accusation and Roderick's excuse are both rather lame. And if, etc. (andinvi.) And heardst. When ^w^ is used thus with questions it seems to indicate that the speaker wishes to suggest a further argument that his opponent has omitted, (That) I seek, etc. N. sent, in aj^pn. to zvarnin". Nor. Poetic for and not ; yet a concessive conj. Even as a spy. Even modifies what follows, "as (thou art) a spy," Save, etc. A phrase limiting the previous general statement by ex- cepting a particular purpose. As save takes either the nominative or accusative after it, it may be taken as a preposition governing, or an old participle in opposition with the noun sentence, " That you are con- demned to fulfill, etc." I come. We thus use the present for the future, if it is near, or if the verb follows, when, till, after, as soon as, etc. ; the reason is that there was no ending for the future tense in the old language, and the present (subjunctive) was used instead. As I (pant) until before, etc. The change of construction sounds awkward. Mood, A, S, mod. passion ; but Lat. mood = modus, a manner, 9 — This episode is taken from actual facts ; the story is told of a noted freebooter. It is most skilfully brought in, and with Scott's usual startling abruptness ; the previous dialogue is well conducted, so as to show ihe. personal enmity of the two men, and this occurs at the very nick of time, for by another ot his " happy coincidences " they have just come to the midst of Roderick's clan lying in " ambuscade," The description is admirable. Everj word tells. Every circum- stance is mentioned, and seems to render ihe scene more varied ; the language is remarkably correct for Scott, and the illustrations natural, while the terrible announcement is most effectively given at the last. Vet, when we get time to think of it, how improbable it appears that Roderick should go through this theatrical performance for one stray soldier. However poetic the circumstance is, it is on a par with his other romantic and chivalrous exploits ; while quivering on the eve of battle, he sleeps apart and without guards ; he goes off on a long jour- ney, and that away beyond his outposts, when he knows the royal trr.rps arc advancing upon him ; and he throws away his target in order to LANto v.] NOTES— THE COMBAT. 193 Wave no adrantacje over liis opponent whom he had determined to kill. *^uch improbabilities intjrfcrj with our enjoyment of the story. Sprang up at onca the lurking he. Scott mostly uses the form in u fur the past tense. This is a fair specimen of a poetic line. Sprung and /(».', the subject and verb, occupy the places of empliasts at the beginning and end. Sprunpj being especially emphatic, owing to the hypcrbatoii : foe is also an important word, and hence is well suited for the important office of Inarim^ ili: rJiyine. Every word has a meaning in t!ic lino. It is also the close of t^ periodic clause. Full (y) fiV2. Full as an adverb is a great favourite with poets. Here it modifies llie numeral. Yawning. This attribute is really part of the assertion ; yet it is taken as a quality already known to belong to the hill, by a sort of con- densation resembling prolepsis. All. An indefinite numeral in apposition with they. Like. An adverb modifying hun<;. Crags, obj. after like cr (to). This is a good specimen of -x periodic sentence. 10. — Notice in this Fitz-James' bravery and the sudden disappearance of the band. Come one. One is in apposition with (thou) the subject of the im- perative. Shall fly. This is more futurity, hence j//<7// is an auxiliary or rela- tional verb ; will is more frequently used for this purpose in the 3d person, though shall may bo, to some extent, justified by the fact that it is the ordinary verb for mere futurity, and should be used on all occasions where it would not lead to ambiguity. We must, however, supply xvill after /. Down sunk, etc. Another strong line. Jack. (Fr. Jaquc ; \j\i. yacobus^ James) = a coat of mail, hence d'niinutivc jacket. Jaques is the most common name among the French, and hcnco it is taken as a type of anything common. In this sense it was borrowed into English ; hence it means John, the most common name; any common implement — boot-jack^ etc., — a coat of mail — common to all, a male, a conunon fellow. Cold, from its appearance, either as devoid of colour, or of life ; it comes in very effectively here as a contrast to the previous scene. II. — The alarm of Fitz-James is well depicted here. Rood, a metaphor taken from the Bible. Leant is not now used out of poetry. Dreaming (that) etc., an adj. to "you," with a noun sentence as object. Wont. P. participle of A.S. -wonian, to live, to be accustomed. Rife. Same as ri/e. Here it means abounding in, alive. Wind. Present tense for the rhyme. Fancy. Gr. pliaino, to appear. The frequent use of this word has given us its English spelling. It is used here more with the meaning of imagination. The two terms were synonymous, fancy being more frequently used in poetry, owing to its form. Cf. Dryden : " 'T!5 fancy in her fiery car Transports me to the thickest war." 194 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto v. But fancy mostly refers to somet'iiing light, trifling, or merely verbal, while imagination is now the technical terra for the quality of the mind that produces fancies and illusions. 12. — The three lakes are Katrine, Achray, and Vennachar, the coun- try between them, the Trosachs. On the plain there is a mound called the Du7t of Bochastle, supposed to be the site of an old Roman camp. Again, we are alarmed about Roderick, for this is where Fitz-James said his horses wait. (.See. iv., 17.) Eagle wings. Referring to the eagle on the Roman ensign. Target. This generous act of Roderick cost him his life, for he was trained to use the target as a shield ; hence without it he was no match for a trained fencer, who used his blade as sword and shield. Yet it heightens our respect for the bold chieftain, and we feel the ii-ony in his repetition of his faults. Shakespeare, in " Hamlet,'' makes Paris the best fencing school, but there is probably a slight anachronism in Scott's use of the art so early, as also the equality in the duel. Man to man. An absolute phrase. The couplet is very forcible ; its sad- den energy startles us, though we half expected it. Keep thee. R. literally fulfilled his promise (see iv., 31 ). The phrase is an apt one for " defend thyself." We must not forget that Roderick's pride probably led him to count on an easy victory. Tlie stranger had claimed his hospitality, hence he could not refuse it ; he was true to tlie traditional honour of his clan, and gave all that was asked, " Rest, and a guide, and food and fire." But vengeance must come, and Roderick would dis- dain to ask assistance against one man. 13. — The difference between the two men is shown by the doggea determination of Roderick to take vengeance ; and the grateful and generous impulse of Fitz-James that leads him to offer to rescind his vow. By prophet bred, refers to Brian's birth ; bred now usually mean'' hrouq;/it up — a secondary meaning. It may be cognate with brcii\ and the Welsh brc-wd, warm. Hence its literal meaning would be to " gen- erate by heat," to " produce." The old expression, " bred and born," may thus be literally correct in order of time, and no Jiystcron proteron. Rend interpreted. The death of INIurdock thus preserves the truth' of prophecy as required by the laws of fiction. Stark and stiff, Synomymous terms. Strengths. Strongholds, an unusual meaning. " Native " means " natural," belonging to the land. Atone, none, alone, only and lonely, are all compounds of one. Spills, another form of spoils = destroys, the old meaning. Conquer Lat. con-queror, to seek for) meant originally to acquire in any manner. Plight never applied to property as " pledge." It is a Gothic word : A.S. ////// ; Gcr. Pflicht. Milton's ''plighted clouds " is another "Arord from hdii.plccto, to weave or fold. I.}. — Roderick's anger is aroused not merely by the death of his clans' man and the proposal of homage, but by the goading thought that th» CANTO V.J NOTES— THE COMBAT. 195 . 1 y fates were turning against liini, a thought that exasperates him to mure determined revenge ; hence his sarcastic words. His alhision to the braid of hair is employed to overcome Fitz-James' reUictance, and it reminds us as well of the unfortunate Blanche, so that we now sympa- thise once more with iier avenger, who also bids for our favour by re- fusing to call assistance, though it was near. This short combat is one of Scott's happiest efforts ; nothing can exceed the nervous vigour of the language. The recital and explanation of the events are briefly given ; we are made to look at the contest before our eyes, and sympa- thise now with one, now with the other. The illustrations are striking. The interest is most intensely exciting, and is maintained to the last by concealing the result. To name. An infinitive (gerundial) modifying .^t); or supply, " as it must soar high." He. An effective pleonasm. Carpet knight. An old epithet fur a knight too effeminate to fight. (Lat. carpo, to pluck, wool.) Truce. (Cognate with true) nom. of .address, but the line is merely extlaiiiafory. Odds. Probably from owe, and = one owed over from the even number ; 07CII is a verb derived from owe, either the participle or inf. 07c/i, the adj. is the. participle ; ought is from the weak participle. Quarrel. Usually a dispute, here = a contest ; literally = a complaint (queror). Falchion is properly a short, crooked sword. Lat. /^r/.v, a sickle. As (they would look on) what they, etc. Note the grammar. Each is 3d sing., and requires a pron. to correspond. 15. — Farad. (A. S. faran to go) = (i ) to travel ; (2) to happen well or ill ; (3) to feed. Trace these to the root. Trained. See " wrathful " in v. 6. It refers not to blade but to James, a construction caused by a change of subject during the pro- gress of the sentence. Death. A metonymy of effect for cause. Drank. A fersoual mciafhor. It adds force to the description to repre- sent the blade thus thirsting for blood, a figure frequently used in poetry, which sprung from the habit of attributing supernatur.il power and life to the swords of heroes, which largely pertains through mediieval poetry. Fierce, from Lat. /^-rt^.r, cruel. It is the French form, the direct Latin ioxvc\.\)€\\\'^ ferocious. The word is here little more than a mere orna- mental epithet, an expedient often made use of in poetry to throw in aF additional pleasure by calling attention to some striking quality. Not* also the alliterative harmony in the fear expressed by the repetition ot the/ The alliteration of lo, ii, 12 and 13 should be noted. Ta'en. The guttural (k) is dropped in order to combine the two syl lables into one, a license too frequently employed in poetry. Many of the contractions, however, are euphonic, and have passed into the current language : such as morn, eve, had, made ; it is simply the euphonic cor- ruption, everywhere present in language, resulting from a rapid and careless pronunciation, whereby unaccented syllables are slurred over and ultimately dropped out. E.xamples are numerous. Thus, from 106 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto V: this stanza, it is well exemplified by the dropiiiivt:^ of the guttural in whose, what (Cf. qu/iat, Lat. quid), tough (tug), hide (C£. Lat. cufis), ward (Cf. guard), war (Cf. Fr. guerre), draught (drink), rain (A. S. rcgen), rage (Lat. rabies), advantage (mAcz/^-a/z/^-fT^''^;), (k)nee(Lat. _^6V??/, Gr. .s^ojiit), chieftain (Lat. caput), brought (bring). Note that English words here liave dropped tlie guttural — an evident improvement. In draught and tough the // is pronounced/, probably a mistake, owing to tiie fact that ii and t' were formerly written alike. (Cf. w.) On the other hand, as accent has caused sounds to drop out from the beginning, middle, or end of a word, so it has caused the accented syl- lables to be strengthened by additions ; of these various processes, names and examples may be found in any book on etymology. In poetry, this principle is sometimes employed for effect, as in adown, deary, shrilly. i6.— This concludes the famous struggle. It is a powerful stanza ; its S7iddcn transitions are startling and keep the interest at the highest till the last moment. Yield thee. Fitz-James' generosity leads him again to forget his vow, but it pleases us, and is in striking contrast with Roderick's unyielding bravery and pride. Like, etc. The repeated similes arc, here, a source of strength, by dwelling on the rapidity till we have a vivid idea of it ; they are appro- priately taken from the natives of the forest. Now, etc. This word adds reality to the exclamatory apostrophe. No maiden's hand means more than it expresses ; not merely not a weak liand, but a very strong one. The figure is called litotes, and is very common in ordinary conversation. They tug, they strain ; down, down they go. Here we have imitative harmo7iy, cpizcuxis, asyndeton (omitting conjunctions), and emphatic arrangement. His. Kote the irea/^ening ejfeet o( the repetition of this word. More- over, it does not always refer to the same antecedent as it should. But hate, etc. Note the effect of the dash and the arrestivc hut. Odds of deadly game is rather -u'ea/cmthh momentous place : it is one of those convenient phrases that Scott seems to have at hand when in an emergency for rhyme, the frequent use of which led Byron to speak of the '* fatal facility of the tetrameter line." Reeled, etc. The repetition here of almost synonymous terms adds to the effect, which is further increased by the balanced structure and the unexpected destination of the blow. r;. — After a slight pause for relaxation after the intense excitement of the struggle, during which Fitz-James literally fulfils his vow, we arf led rapidly to Stirling to see the archery games, though we reluctantly leave Roderick. Die or live, i.e., it is his whether he die or I'.ve. His praise here and in vi., 29, is Q;enerous, and is very pleasing. It is probably imitated from the ballads. ^ Cf. :— " The Perce leanydc on his brand, And sawe the Duglas de ; U« touke the dede man be the hande CANTO v.] NOTES— THE COMBAT. ,97 And sayd, " Wo ys me for the ; To have savyde thy lyffe I wold have partyd with My landes for years thre, For a better man of harte nare of hande Was not in all the north countre." — Chevy Chase. Squires. The attendant of a knight. Latin scutum, a shield, and gcro, to carry ; hence, sattigcr, a shield-bearer. To this the French added a euphonic initial esis ; it fills us with alarm for the Douglas, who now has all our syj:npathy. CANTO VL I. — Again we have the beautiful introductory stanzas chiming in with the close of the former canto, and suggesting what is coming. It is morning ; but the poet has too much sympathy with man and his sor- rows to give us a description of external nature. Compare the reflec- tions here with the opening lines of Canto ii. iii. and v. ; in the latter the poet paints the reviving life, the serene beauty or the brilliant glory of awakening nature ; but here it is the busy haunt of man, where eacli is aroused to his task of care. It is not, however, man as one of *' nature's children " that feels morn's " genial influence," it is man in the " dark city," where "morn " too often awakes him to woe, happily forgotten while under the influence of " the kind nurse of men." This melancholy moral, drawn from natural phenomena, is quite characteristic of Scott ; the sentiments that occur to him are mostly of a sad nature, and none can be more generally touching. The scene given here is intensified by selecting indiridual eases, and these of tlie most stiggcs- tivc and toueliing nature, with which all the attending eireumstances arc in gloomy harmony : the dark city, the sullen glance, sinful man, nurse of men. red and struggling beam, feeble wail, — all help tu deepen the impression. CANTO VI.] THE GUARD-ROOM. 203 The language is simple and terse, with few of those obsolete words, meaningless phrases, and forced arrangement, that so frequently deface Scott's page ; yet they are not altogether absent. CaitiJf'M weak. Student pale is an inversion that adds no force, and if occurring too often, as it does in this poem, it shows weak poetic powers. Gyce and jail are too jingling for this solemn stanza. The strength, here, consists in the pity aroused by the suggestive particulars TsxiiS. attending cireumstatiees, not by the language itself ; indeed felicity of expression seems to be rarely arrived at by Scott. Yet we have here some very expressive words^ such as awakening, sullen, prowling, lagging, struggling, tormenting, and feeble. Kind mirse is beautiful, but not original. Cf. Macbeth II. 2 : " Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care ; The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath. Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — " and 2 Hen. IV., in. i : " O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee ? " and Young : "Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." — Night Thoughts. Sullen. Lat. solus, alone ; task, same as tax. by an interchange of let- ters called vietathcsis. Cf. ask. from A. S. acsian. Caitiif. Lat. captivus. As late as Addison's time it meant captive, now only the attending state of wretchedness. It frequently happens thus, that when there were two words, er two forms of the same word having the same meaning, they divide the meaning, and thus gradually become desynonymized. Summoning. Tat. sub-viojteo = to advise privately: the <^ being assimi- lated to ;;/. Revellers. Lat. rc-bellum ; war = to make a noisy uproar, as if lighting. Prowling, from Fr. proi : Lat. prada, prev. Pallet. (I) A small bed, from Fr. paille, I^kt. palea, chaff ; (2) a tool, from Lat. pala, a spade. Hospital . This is the direct Latin word ; hotel is the same word comi ng tlirou^h the French. Trembles. Lat. tremor, tremo, to shake; note that the l> is not radical. Lorn. Another form of lost ; it is the old participle. Couch. Con. with loeo, to place ; hence eollocare, to collect. For an account of these pentameter stanzas, see the introductory stanzas to the other cantos. They should be carefully studied, as they contain much real poetry, and connect us more directly with the poet's own heart and time. The joys and sorrows of the poor people, here touched upon, formed the subject of some of the finest poetry of Scott's ac:e, a fact that we would never glean from his poems, so completely was he permeated with the spirit of the romantic past. 2.— These opening stanzas '^i'VQ\xbii\\dldcpincd picture oi the guard- ^04 "THE LAt)Y OF TH£ LAKE, [canto vL- room and its wild occupants. The description in this second one is worth remarking — (i.) It is given at a farfictday time — at dawn; (2;) It proceeds from ^f«^r<7/j to ^at-ticu/ars, gw'm^ the outside before the inside; (3.) The most striki7ig objects are iirst mentioned, — the shioky airj the comfortless alliance of the Hghts ; (4.) The various positions and occupations are suggestive of weariness and confusion. Haggard, from hawk and ard := wild-looking, with sunken eyes. All is ati adv. Board, from broad by metathesis. Beaker. A large drinking cup, probably connected with beak ; pitcher is the same word. 3. — Many descriptive particulars are here happily introduced. Note the three sorts of soldiers mentioned : — (i.) The vassals of a feudal lord who gave military service for their lands ; (2.) The clansmen of the Highlands following the head of the family or clan ; (3.) Adventurers who " lived by battle," /. £•., hired soldiers, a small body of which James V. first introduced as a body-guard. In this he imitated the monarchs of Europe, who now for the first time made use of standing armies. This gave them such power over the nobles, that James probably in- troduced such soldiers for the same purpose, as he had but a small following otherwise. These mercenary bands were very extensively employed by the republics of Italy. Note the national traits thrown in. Halberd. A long handled axe; from Ger, halm^ a handle, and barte,?^ axe. Holytlde. Holiday, i. e., for the games. It is mentioned here to increase the effect ; they were at their wildest, now that discipline was relaxed and wine plentiful. These mercenary soldiers are also intro- duced into the " Lay." Cf. " The camp their home, their law the sword, They knew no country, owned no lord." — Lay 0/ Last Minstrel. 4.— Burden, from the French bourdon ; (i) a drone ; (2) the sound of such, a hum, hence the refrain of a song. It is sometimes spelled burthen^ from a supposed connection with tliat word ; and this accidental resemblance has modified the meaning somewhat. Yeoman. One next below a gentleman, in England. A man of small estate. From A. S. gau^ a district, and man ; or from gemeine, com- mon, hence a common man. Chaser of the deer. A common term applied to poachers in the old legendary ballads. It is 7i.pe}-iphrasis. Host. Lat. hostis, an enemy. War is meant. There are also host. Lat. liospes^ a guest, and host, Lat., hostia, a sacrifice. Catch I troll = song I sing. A catch is a song, the parts of which are Caught up by different voices. It is from Lat. capio^ to take ; through O. Fr. cachcr. Its participle has dropped the guttural. Troll =^ to roll ; hence to smg a song m parts. BuxOlt). Merry or vigourous. It is a favourite word with poets, Ix'iu'^ handed down from generation to generation, though it has h iig since passed out of the cuiTcnt language. It first meant " yielding,'' obcilicnt, »s in,-~ •' Buxom to the lawe." — J''i(rs Plovjman. CANTO VI.] NOTES— THE GUARD-ROOM. 205 " Winnowed the buxom air.^'' — Mii.ton, /'. L. (same phrase in Spencer's "Faerie Qucene." " Such buxom chief shall lead his host From India's fires to Zembla's frost." — Scott, Marntion. In the sense of obedience it was frequently applied to women : as this quality gradually lost its importance, the word lost its old meaning;, and assumed another denoting those qualities desirable in women, lively, cheerful grace, as in, — "A female heir So buxom, blithe, and full of face As heaven had lent her all his grace." — Gower. " So buxom, blithe, and debonnair." — Milton, U Allegro. A. S., hocsum ; Fr., bugaii, to bow ; Ger., bcugsavi = bowsome, easily bent. Cut short. Cut is a participle qualif,ving games ; short is an adv. 5. — The soldier's song is characteristic, singing the praises of wine and women, and satirically defiant of " the vicar.'' The metre is anapaestic tetrameter, with an agreeable mixture of iambics. Wrath and despair. Referring to his denunciations. Black-jack. A metonymy for the liquor it contained. Seven deadly sins. Pride, Sloth, Gluttony, Lust, Avarice, Envy and Anger — from Spenser's Faerie Qneenc. — Taylor. Sack, from Fr., sec, dry ; L., siccus, a dry wine. Upsees. A Bacchanalian interjection, borrowed from the Dutc'a. — Scott. Upsee Dutch meant being drunk. A fig for, etc. And care not a fig for the vicar. Fig is the adverbial object, probably derived from the \\.2X\2A\fico, a mode of insult by putting the finger in the mouth. Cf. French, /«//'ir lajiguc. Jack and Gillian were correlative terms in old songs. Cf. : " Every Jack shall have his jill."— Shak. M. N. D. Cure, from the Lat. cura, care. The care of souls ; hence, the district or duties of a priest. Placket and pot. The favour of the ladies and the good things of life, good fare. These words are used by metonymy for contents ; //atryiv/, a petticoat. Dread prince of flackcts. — L. L. L., iii. i. There is another meaning to the word, however, that removes the coarseness ; viz., Fr. flaqucttc, a Belgian coin, dim. oi plaque, -a plate; Ger. plack,^ plate, a rag; Gr. plax, a plain. From the French we get the meaning coi/i, and from the German, rag, and hence, petticoat. Cf. •' I liad iiae a plack in my pouch." — Ai.ex. Ross. 6. — We immediately guess who the minstrel and maid are, and do not need to be told. Without. The use of this word, and 7i'ithin, as adverbs, is frequent in pf)etry, but is rarely now found in prose. 2o6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto VI. Went — . The old past tense of wetideu, to go. It has supplied the place of yoi{c. The dash indicates the abrupt turn in the thought. Sirs. The plural is not usual in prose. " Gentlemen,-' or the French " Messieurs " being used instead. Note the history and use of this word : — Sir, sire, sieur. seigneur, signore, senior. Cf. elder, alderman, earl, and "our elders." Loose = licentious or immodest. Cf. "loose speech '" in 8 and "loose fancy" in 9 ; and also "loose fish," "free liver," " free thinker," " liber- tine.' The censure incurred by the refusal to submit to discipline has given these words their disreputable meanmg. Store. From Lat. iiistajwo, to provide ; hence = provision, abundance. Theirs, Objective genitive. It is also a double genitive form, the s being redundant. Needs. An example of a word from the inflection of another word ; it is an adverb formed from the genitive of the n. need. We have many such. Cf. wliiles, perhaps, seldom, when, tlien, where, why, etc. Juggler band. Fr. jonglc7ir^ from Lat. Joailator, a jester, from Jociis, a jest. The king's jester was often an important personage ; wc find by Doomsday Book that he had lands in Gloucestershire. " Jocu- lator regio habet iii. villas." — Percy. As the king kept his jongleur, or minstrel, for his entertainment, many of the nobility imitated him in this ; so also did religious houses. These were sometimes allowed to journey from place to place, singing and playing, and ultimately they be- came independent. They gradually sank in character, till a law was passed against them in the reign of Elizabeth. " They used to call in the aid of various assistants to render these performances as captivating as pos- sible. The glee-maiden was a necessary attendant. Her duty was tumbling and dancing." — Scott. Shakespeare ridicules such bands frequently, as in R. and J., M. N. D., Hamlet, etc. 7. — The effect of Ellen's bravery and beauty is well told and illustrated by a fine simile. This also is quite in keeping with the sentiments, the chivalric past. One effect of chivalry was to make woman, especially when young and beautiful, not the companion, but the goddess of man. These. This use of these without its noun to refer to persons is almost obsolete, and is entirely so in the singular. With the verb "to be," however, when the predicate noun follows, it is used either in the singular or plural. Harper z.Vi(S. girl are in apposition with these, making ■a plconasvi in the ballad style. P'.irvey. From Lat. pro-video, to provide. Cf. purveyor. This word and steed, hitherward, speed, belong to poetic diction. The student should carefully investigate the use of such words and constructions as these ; they constitute one of the chief distinctions between prose and poetry. In the latter they add gracefulness and quaintness ; but should be carefully avoided in the former. Lodge. The house in which a forester would live. As John of I5r;nt is an exiled forester he draws his' metaphors from hunting. Lolgc and lobby are cognate. A.S. logian ; Ger. Laubc. Despite. Lat. dc-specio, to look = to look down on. This W(jrd comes from the participle dcspeetus. Fr. dcpif, %. — When Ellen states that she is the poor daughter of an exiled soJ- CANTO VI.] NOTES— THE GUARD-ROOM. 207 dier, \vc fcjl that she employs the most powerful means of awakening the sympathies of this wild band. The impulsive nature of John de Brent is naturally first aroused for good as for evil. And thou. This use of and as an introductory conjunction is found when the speaker utters words that have been or might have been used bv the prcviuus speaker. By forest laws. These were formerly very severe in England. II Rose. Epanorthosis. His lost love adds to our interest in the generous outlaw. Iron eye and brow. A metaphor. It generally denotes severity ; here, only the rough, worn soldier. He that steps. Another irregularly formed sentence, see v. 24 ; he is the antecedent of liis and tliat^ but is not in construction itself. Injurious dart. A weak phrase, probably used f(-r the rhyme : the meaning is forced. Maid is the indirect object. Note that it means radically a child of either sex. A. S. jnaegi/i ; Ger. ma^d. 7/iaid ; GotK magus, a boy ; Gael, mae, a son, as in -l/atDonald. 9. — The looseness of a soldier's life is shown in the bearing of the captain as well as in that of the men. The object here is to increase Ellen's troubles by these rude scoffs. Young — . Note that the dash indicates the omission of the noun, the explanation being substituted. This figure is called aposiopesis. Tulllbardine= '^thc bard's knoll ^ in Perthshire, the old seat of the Murrays before they got the Athol estates and title by marriage.'' — T.WLOR. The explanatory parenthesis forms :x pcriplirasls. Spurs. In chivalry spurs were part of the outfit of a knight. " To win .'lis spurs "' = to gain knighthood. Palfrey white. Lewis' speech is founded on the old customs of chivalry. This passage is probably imitated from Spenser's Faerie Qucene. In his letter to Sir \Aalter Raleigh, he says '• a fair Ladye in mourning weedes, riding on a white Asse, coming to the queen, and falling down before her, sought the aid of a knight to release her parents from the power of a huge dragon." In the old trials by contest so fre- quently employed during the time of chivalry, if an individual could not fight (/. <-.. priests, children, women, etc.,) he had the privilege of select- in'^ a champion, /. r., one to take the field for him. In tl\e case of a lady she might thus ride round the lists, thereby soliciting any warrior to become her champion ; hence the errant davioscl. Venture = adventure. It would be presumptuous for a squire to offer himself as her champion, as his opponent might be a knight and refuse to figlit with one beneath him. Quest = request. Lat. qucror, to ask. Squire. See v. 17. He means to offer his services, if suitable by the laws of chivaln.-, i e., a man fought only with equals. Oamosel. O. Fr. dainoisel ; Fr. damoiselle. dim. of dame, fem. of do)n:nus. a lord, domiis, a house. In old legends a lady's palfrey was always ••white,"' or •• dapple gray," or -milk-white," or " fair." Cf.,— Then forth she rode on a faire palfrey (J'er hill and dale about ; 2oS THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi But never a champion could she find Wolde fighte with that knight so stout. — Sir Audingar. To do with pride. She checks her natural indignation and simply tells her mission. Note the alliteration in next line. To bacl<, to assist, a sort of metoiiyiny. Pledge. Old Fr. //f_^r= something given as security. Grateful claims = claims on his gratitude. 10. — The ring is here as powerful an " open sesame" as it always is in romantic fiction. Its use in poetry is a remnant of the custom of making a mark or sign as one's signature. Those entitled to crests would have such engraved on their rings so that they could be stamped on documents ; hence, " signet-rings." The alms of Ellen is a trifling circumstance and somewhat masculine, but it brings out an additional excellence in Brent. With a few touches Scott has given us a fair sketch of this imaginary outlaw, and has en- dowed him with all the generous qualities attributed to the bold foresters of the ballads — Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, Robin Hood, Little John, etc. His impatience at the interruption of the games, and his boisterous conduct with his comrades, show him to be one of those impetuous, ungovernable children of nature whom tyranny turns to outlaws ; while his ready and brave championship of an outlaw's daugh- ter, and the present refusal of money, and the solicitation of a " favor " to wear, are of the very essence of romantic poetry. Own, to acknowledge. V^oi^^Wx^ liypcrhaton. Here the grammatical order shows the relation of the word, viz. : — " If my folly failed to un- known worth veiled, etc." Please you. This is best taken as an imperative verb with its subject expressed. Repose you = an imperative with its object (reflexive). Attendance. Abstract nouns are often thus used to denote the re- sult of the action or the collectiveness of individuals performing it, — by vietonymy. Hest. Command. A. S. Z^t'-haes, a command, from hatan ; Goth. /la/'/a)!, to bid. Cf. hight, called, a reduplicate word. Guerdon. A reward ; here = a gift. From old Yr.giierycdan : A. S. -i'idhcrlcan — widher, against or back, and Ican^ reward ; Ger. tvidcr- lohti. Barret-cap. A cloth cap worn by soldiers. It is a romance word from Low Latin birrus, a coarse cloth. Jeopardy. Danger. YromYr.jcuparti ; I^Tit. j'ocra, 7i game, /ariiof, to divide, as if it were a divided or even chance, hard-chance. Crests. Plumes on the helmet. From Lat. crista, crinis, hair. II. — The student should observe the skill with which Scott conducts the narrative throughout. Where several characters have to be fol- lowed, the story really becomes as many separate stories, and great skill must be shown in alternately develo])ing each. Events hurry on us in this canto with startling rapidity. Ellen and Allan come upon the scene when least expected, and the delay caused by the early hour gives CANTO VI.] NOTES— THE GUARD-ROOM. 209 Allan an opportunity of asking after the DoiiG;las. His words are so constructed as to mislead the guard, and he is led to the death-bed of Roderick, much to his and our surprise. Tiien come tlie battle, the death, the "lament,'' the cliief love interest, and, finally, the "dis- covery" of Fitz-James. Notliing can exceed the powerful interest of this last canto. The story is, however, supplemented by many sub- sidiary interests wliich will be noticed as we proceed. In this stanza, of such a nature are Allan's account of his office and duties, his affection for his master, which calls forth a sympathetic burst from the generous Brent, whose unexpected manliness redeems the introduction of him- seh and his rough comrades. Jeffrey censured Scott for the introduc- tion of such a scene into a poem whose general tenor was graceful- ness. If this criticism were just, the author would be guilty of an of- fence against harmony, for in a poem, which is a fine art, everything should harmonize. The poet must show good taste not only in treat' ing his subjcet, but also in selecting his materials and ijieidents. Hence, incidents and characters are not chosen at random, and are not made to imitate nature too closely where we find much that is disagreeable. This process is called the idealizing process, and is opposed to the real. The first gives us pleasure by present- ing us pleasing and well-harmonized circumstances ; the other by giving an accurate and faithful copy of nature, in which the excellence of the imitation, apart from any intrinsic beauty in the object, pleases us. Hence, some pictures and poems please us greatly, though on uninter- esting or disagreeable objects, as, for instance, the writings of Dickens and Crabbe, and the paintings of Hogarth and the genre painting. Scott's poems belong to the first, or ideal, or romantic class, but this scene is realistic. Waked. A favourite metaphor with poets. Above their own. '• His own "' is probably meant, referring to one^ but it may refer to race. Hearse. Lit. a harrorv. It was originally a triangular framework for holding candles placed over a tomb. From Lat. hirpex, a harrow, rehearse is from the same root. It is the mention of this death tribute that misleads De Brent. Southern. The chief seat of English minstrelsy was around the borders between England and Scotland. The deeds of the rival races and clans are sung, and hence the terms northern and southern occur very frequently. Of these bards, the northern were most noted for their poetry, and hence the use of the word by Scott in his invocation and farewell. (See "Farewell.'") And but II loved to drive the deer. But is a prep, and governs the clause connecting it with dwelt ; drive is poetic for hunt, 12. — The narrative interest is maintained by our hope of meeting with Douglas and the sudden surprise at seeing Roderick instead. Artist. This is the singular, poetically used for the plural; but their in the next line is ungrammatical unless we make the antecedent plural. Seen. Some of these instruments of torture were the maiden, th^ rack, the wheel, the thumb-screw and the boot. f.Ptique garniture.— Old furniture, from Lat. antiques, old ; and Fr. garnir, to furnish. Gam'"' or garer, is cognate with German 14 2IO THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. ulace. Among the many expedients for dcepcnitig the effect notice ( i ) the metre, irregular, and 1 roken at inter- vals by trimeters, while occasionally four lines rhyme together to imitate rapidity. It rLsembles the irregular metre of " Marmion/'and has a «7A/, rugged hcaitty. (2) ')l\\q. harmony oi scenery with inci- dent. This should always be present if possible in poetry, especially romantic poetry ; hore the wild gorge of the Trosachs serves as a fitting back-ground for the tierce struggle. There is also a harmony of the. figurative illustrations, of language, and of the elements. 'Ihe poet has taken the assistance of a thunder storm to harmonize with the battle, but it also serves to discover the swimmer. Final!}', there is a harmony of incident with character and with the main story, for from our knowledge of the clan of Roderick we would expect such a wild, im/etuous struggle, and when it is all over, and we are reminded of Roderick, we feel the harmony of it with his life and death, and that his death itself is characteristic. Farewell. Allan, like all poetical natures, would naturally bcccme attached to so beautiful and quiet a spot. His farewell visit, therefcrc, not only gives a reason for his presence on the mountain's height, but suggests an additional foctic sentiment harmonizing with his character. So lone a lake, etc. Lone suggests far from the bustling world ; lonely, far from lumian aid and sympathy. Compare this quiet scene and its contrast to what follows with i. i, and more especially witli Loch Katrine in iii. 2, and cf. " By lotic St. Clary's silent lake." — Marmion. One of the chief means of producing strength in composition is the in- troduction of variety. The poet seeks to amuse us in many ways: tlie main story with its many windings, the subordinate incidents, the lo-ce interest, the dcscri/tion cf ?cenery, the songs, and the characters, all are used to engage our attention alternately. This variety appears net only in the whole but in every /ortion of the poem ; many instances of it occur in this battle scene. Of this nature, also, is the contrast of char- acter with character, scene with scene, etc., for contrast is merely the extreme case of variety ; thus we have the lone, sweet lake contrasted with the wild uproar, the deep calm with the whirlwind and thunder. There is also a striking contrast between the two armies and their mode of fighting. Yon thunder-cloud . . . shroud. Note the reality given by yon and the sitggestiofi in shroud. Distant hills. This completes the landscape. Observe that the poet has given reality and concretcness by the enumeration of indi- vidual objects — chiefly active aniitials — and their characteristic action during the mysterious stillness that precedes the storm. Solemn sound. Note well the alliteration and imitative harmony in this and the following lines. The interrogation adds vivacity ; a mere narrative would be too tame. Two storms are approaching, and we are in doubt for a moment which it is we see and hear. They. Pleonastic. Note the indirect way of telling the time. Cloud of Saxon war. Suggested by the looming thunder cloud. War is a metonymy for soldiers. Saxon is applied to Lowland Scotch as well as to the English. Note the abrupt change in imitation of the ballad. 2 12 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. 'Twere. Another pleonasm. Eyry. Lit. = eoigery ; hence, a nest — generally the eagle's. From Old English cyrcn, eggs, but it may come from A. S. Art. Ger. Aar, an eagle, and ry, denoting coUectiveness. Erne. An eagle. An old Saxon word. i6.— Here we take "one glance at their array" as they proceed in dv.mb march through that "seeming lonesome pathway." See v. 9, 10, and II. Forest. 'Ld.t.foras, out of doors, a predicate nominative. Barbed. Literally = armed with barbs, or beard-like points. It may refer to the helmets. It properly belongs to the horse, and means his t:a)pings. Battalia. A coined word = either the army marching to battle, or more probably used as the plural of the battalion. Vanward. Va)i, contr. from Fr. avant, Lat. ab, ante. Scouts. Old Fr. cscoiite. Lat. aiisculio, to listen, from aiiris, the ear. Deep-sea wave. The swtile in these three lines is -well cJiosoi, and picturesquely describes the regularity of the march. A narrow, etc. Note the license in the repetition of the article. Shadowed o'er — o'ershadowed. The two ideas must be taken to- gether to give the true meaning of the expression. 17. — A \^Ty foiverful stanza. Its peculiarities are apparent. Note the two pairs of rhymiftg quatrains in the beginning to denote /taste : a species of hartnony. At once and yell. Note the emphatic position of these ivt/ortant words. As all = as if all. Common in Scott and Shakespeare. Archery. L. areas, a bow ; er, an agent, and y, collection. Note the /'eriocfic structure ivom. forth to afpear. Their plight they ply = they urge their flight. Ply = to urge on, to work steadily at, and plight = their present condition, i.e., flight. Cf. Gray's — " Nor busy housewife //y her evening care.'''' Maddening = raging. The accumulation of circumstances adds to the terror. How shall it keep. Note the use of it as subject of a sentence be- fore its antecedent is mentioned. The animation is thus increased ; the exilaviiition is made as if the struggle were before our eyes, and the explanatory noun follows. Twilight wood, i.e., twilight forest as in 16. Probably from its re- semblance to a forest in the twilight. Onset. We use many nouns thus composed of a verb and prefix though we do not now use the verb with the prefix. Cf. upshot, down- fall, overthrow, income, outlook, etc., but verbs compounded with over^ ■under and w'lth are common. Tinchel. A method of taking game by forming a ring round it and driving it into a pit or trap. LA.\T0Vi.] NOTES— THE GUARD-ROOM. 215 iS. — Like wave. Another fine simile drawn from the sea, this time wlien lashed by the tempest. It is more fully elaborated than that in 16. But Moray. Note that the transitions are clearly marked, — always necessary when the narrative changes from side to side. Note, also, the power! ul effect of g!Ti)tg tlic actual commands. It is an exj)edient made use of very frequently. A good example of it is afforded by the ^- Charge of the Light Brigade." Where, where. E/izcuxis. This ejaculation is imitated fiom the Romantic poetry, — Cf. " O for a blast of that dread horn, On Fontarablan echoes borne, Wliich to King Charles did come ; When Roland brave and Olivier, And every paladin and peer, On Roncesvalles died." — Scott. Marmion. Refluent. How weak the Latin adjective is here. Linn. A deep pool or mountain lake. The last line is touching. Brandishing. From Fr. brandir^ to use as a brand or sword. The ending ish in verbs is from issant, the present participle. Anvil. A, S. anfill = onfall = that on which the blows /a//. Lightsome ^ light or cheerful, a poetic word now : — " The lightsome realms of love." — Dkvden. Bugle-horn. Literally, a Iiom of the bugle^ oxbuculus Lat, wild-ox. It was a cup or a musical instrument. K). — The scene changes to Loch Katrine. Note the animated man- ner in which the transition is indicated. Note, also, the associated circitmstajiccs introduced, — the sunset, the lowering scowl, livid blue, strange gusts, eddying surge, all in harmony with the terrible work going on in the gorge. The effect is rendered more appalling by the suggestive description : the imagination is filled with fearful fancies while listening to the '• sullen sound " shaking the ground *' like an earthquake " — " The dirge of many a passing soul." When at last the armies appear, to our surprise tliey are separated ; the mountaineers are defeated but tliey have foiled their pursuers. Issue. Fr. isstte, from Lat. ex-irc, to go ; used literally here. Isle. From Fr. He. O. Fr. isle. Lat. insula. Similar words are the Celtic ennis, innis, or inch. Note that island is not cognate with this word, as the J is not radical in it, but was probably inserted imder the belief that the word is a compoimdof isle and land, whereas it comes from A. S. i'fl', or Icel. fj, and land. The German form is eiland^ while island is Iceland in German and French. Eddying. .\. .*^. ed., back, and ea, water, or Icel. yda, to rush. Gorge. Literally = the throat (formed from the sound); hence, a narrow passage. 9pake is not usually transitive. But with, etc. Uut is a preposition connecting the follnwin'^ phrase Hfith the \cxh parts. It limits the general negative by excepting thi 214 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [camovi. special case "with," etc., and \vith will still connect its noun with the verb; Parting. A favourite word with the poets for departing. Dirge. From " Dlrlgc, Doin'mc, Dens, Mais^' etc., Psalm v. 8, or from the beginnino; of some Roman Catholic hymn sung at funerals. It is the imperative of dirigo, to direct; Cf; Pafcr Nosfcr, Ave Maria. Mass {i/iissa est), Tc Dcitni) miserere, etc. Martial. From Mars, the god bf War. Cf. cereal, jovial, panic, mercurial, etc. Havock, generally spelled havoe. A. S. ha foe. W. hafog, destruc- tion. It was often used in hawking, and is supposed by some to be cognate with hawk. Bay. A hunting term applied to deer when they turn on the dogs, thus standing to be bayed or barked at. 20. — In this stanza the past tense is used almost throughout. The student will not fail to see how tame it is compared with the present tense. Indeed, the present tense would be a great addition, especially in the last lines. We can scarcely imagine the minsti-el seeing and hearing what occurred on "yon isle," for he was seated where " Loch Katrine lay beneath him cast ; " the present tense would have removed the difficulty by bringing the vision before the readers. It would be a good class exercise to change the construction. Askance. (Ital. scancio, slanting), obliquely ; they were partly facing the island. Lance. Lat. lance a, probably used for the rhyme. Wring tlie hand. The sounds weak here. It is an antiqiiated form now, but yet common in Scotland. Booty. A. S. hot, compensation, from hetait. to make /v/'/'tv .• hence, We have to boot, a verb =^ to profit, as " what boots it ; " boot, a noun = advantage, and bootless. Booty is the plunder obtained from a raid. Wont. Here is a past tense like ivoiined in *' Alice Brand," it = were accustomed. Bonnet-pieces store. A coin on which the king's head had a bonnet instead of a crown. It was coined by James V.. who, as the " Commons' King," omitted the crown. Store is probably here a noun = abundance, its usual employment, and of is to be supplied before bonnet-pieces. Bowshot. The adverbial object of distance. Duncraggan's widowed dame. See iii. i8, where her martial qual- ities prepare us for this deed. An oak. Note the contrast between this scene and that when Ellen's boat stood underneath this oak. (See i. t;.) In John de Brent and I')uncraggan's widow wc have a glimjjse at the power Scott afterwards developed in his novels of depicting wild, lawless men and viaseidine women, the only variety of woman he could success- fully portray, as Meg Dods, Meg Merrilees, etc. 21. — The battle and Roderick's life come to a sudden stop, thus giving us a double snr/^rise. We feel the fitness of his death on the defeat of his clan. He could never sulMiiit : his proud spirit was not made for thraldom. The cireianstanees of his death wiove our jiity ; WC forget his faults and heartily join in tlic " lament'' Roderick was CANTO vi.J NOTES— THE GUARD-ROOiM. 215 to be the '' obstacle " — the evil character, whose i)unishmcnt/(?tY/V jitS' ticc demands before the poem ended, but Iiis qualities are so great that their magttitudc makes them res/eetal>lc, and he overshadows all the rest, even " the Lady " lierself. Scott has been censured for this, and certainly the interest of the plot is distracted to a considerable degree by cur sympathy for him, especially now, since his death atones for alh Indeed, with his death the dramatic interest ceases. elemental. A favourite word in poetry and ridiculed as such by Shakespeare, wlio, however, several times uses it for sky, as air was one of the four elements, — fire, earth, air, water, — " And the complexion of the element." — yuiius Casar " The element itself Sliall not behold her ia.ce.'''' —Twelfth Night. Herald's voice. Note the condensation in this passage. The knight was the herald and had the clarion by his side, at least no others are mentioned. Grim and still. Epithets transferred from the person to his spirit. Was fled. Wliat difference in history and meaning between this and •' had fled ? ^' 22. — The '"Lament" has another frt';7(7//(7« in the metre. It is in triplets repeated three times in the stanza, which in turn is repeated three times. Note that the chief points that captivate us in Roderick's character and life are mentioned, — his bravery towards foes, aid to his elan, lonely death in grief and in prison, the grief of his clan, his sad lot in life, ending with the strongest — in poetry — loi'c. There are a few figures, but the student should now be able to detect and examine them himself. 23. — Note the sudden transition. Not a word to denote the cliange except the while, which, by the way, is used so frequently as to be a- mannerism. Note also that it is the chief love interest that comes on the stage now. Nothing else could affect us after the death of Roderick. Ellen's regretful longing for the simple joys of " that lone isle,'' is a piece oi natural sentiment that goes to the heart of every one. While her heart is "bursting'' with the remembrance of those dear to her, her father, her lover, and even her companion, Lufra — now, perhaps, all lost to her forever — the splendour of the '• lordly bower " and the ob- sequiousness of the "menial train" are imheeded. Our///;' is thus strongly aroused for her, for " 'Tis truth the poet sings That sorrow's crown of sorrows is remembering happier things." — Tennysom. et there is one powerful charm that can arouse her from her gloom, and by a happy ehanee it is present. Note that we are recalled to Mal- colm, so that we know who the singer in the next stanza is. Love of country is also suggested here. Every one knows Scott's lines on thia sentiment in " The Lay," Canto vii., beginning with — " IJrealhes there a man with soul so dead." .2i6 THE Lady of the lake, [canto vh Notice, also, that Lufra is not forgotten. Tliis is a piece of Scott's sc!f-^aiuthig, for love of dogs was a passion with him : Camp, Nimrod, Maida, etc, were in turn his favourites ; to the latter he erected a marble tomb. See v. iS. Storied pane = illuminated windows, having historical figures painted on them. Cf. Gray's " storied urn," i.e., with the stories written. In " storied past '' we have a different meaning — rich in story, or " old in story.'' Gilded roof. Cf. Gray's " fretted vault," and Milton's " The roof was fretted gold," and Shakespeare's, — " This majestical roof fretted with golden fire." Omen. From oscinis, a divining bird, from Lat. os, mouth, and cano. to divine. At random = by chance, or not such as the question would require. Latticed bower, i.e., having lattice windows. Lattice (same root as lath) means a frame made of cross bars or laths eitlier of wood or iron. Bower (as buan, to dwell ; cf. boor, neighbour) had this meaning of ^'chamber" or "lodging-room." Cf. " She led him up into a godly 3^7tvr." — Spencer. Now its ordinary meaning is a " shady recess '' or arbour. Cf. " In shadier hotver Pan or Sylvanus never slept." — Milton. 24. — This is probably the weakest of the lyrics in this poem. It alx)unds in alliteration, and expresses very well the intense longing for freedom of a bold young spirit, — a distinct variety of the feeling from that felt by Roderick Dhu. (See 14.) Dull steeple's drowsy chime is very expressive ; so is crawl. Not a hall of joy. Note the emphatic sense of not. It is rhetori- T-illy more than a mere negative. 25. — Brave FitZ-James. Note Scott's habit of applying the term l-vive on all occasions to his heroes. James had shown no bravery to I-llen, hence with her it is a mere poetical epithet ; but such epithets belong to the ^"^ bold Robin Hood " age. The boon to give = to give the boon is not in my power. Boon = prayer, favour, from A. S. bcti, a prayer; Dan. boit. The adj. boo)i is from Lat. bonus: Fr. bon.T^s in ''boon nature,'' i. 12. Note that the words of Fitz-James arc framed to mislead us, in order to increase the effect of the discovery in the " presence " chamber. Come, Ellen, come. This repetition becomes a mere vuDuicrism when used so frequently without any special feeling. Prime = />riinus, i.e., the first hour for prayers ; but it has now only the meaning of early. Of pride. Cf. "Man of pride," v. 8; " breast of snow,'' i. iS; and "hall of joy," vi. 24. These are genitives of definition, used pocticuiiy iot adjectives. CANTO VI.] NOTES— THE GUARD-ROOM. 217- 26. — This stiinzA (/hu/^t's the ^^rea/ secref oi the poem — '• Snowdcun's- Knight is Scotland's King.'' Many expedients were made throughout the poem to conceal the secret, and we are as much surprised as Ellen was. The " presence," /.', /., <7, u, when the syllable added contains ^ ; this change of vowel depends 222 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [canto vi. 'on 'tthe law of assimilation and constitutes our " strong forms/' which • occur uuthe comparison of adjs., the formation of nouns and verbs by •radical <:1iaiige, the number of nouns and in tense. Let the student :show exafti^l^s of each of these " strong forms." Touch of fipe= impassioned music. It is a common metaphor to rreprese'nt' fe^liiig by warmth and the absence of it by coldness. Rugged delf. -Once more notice Scott's intense fondness for rugged landscapes and mountains. His descriptions of such are always true, biit be fails when he attempts the beautiful in its more regular forms. He, for this reason, loved the Border country : " There was something 'bold, stern, and 'solitary about it," he said to Washington Irving ; " when 1 have teen for some time in the rich scenery about Edinburgh, I wish myself 'back among my honest gray hills ; and if I did not see the -ibeather atka«t once a year, I think I should die,"— Lockhart's Life. VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES. The following forms will be found useful to know in ascertaining the meaning of Celtic words : — ^/— white ; rad^ high ; raw^ a rushing ; ath, a ford; aiu/i,^ field; avon,an,^. river; ^rt/(7, issue of a lake; bally, ^ town; ban, white; beg, little ; blair, a plain; <:«r, a fort; cain,ken, white ; cam, crooked ; clyd, warm ; craig, a rock ; dal, a plain ; dour, der, water , drtim, a ridge ; dutt, a hill ; graw, rough ; inch, island ; ken, kin, a head ; kil, a cell or church ; lis, hiss, a mound ; levan,lanc, smooth ; mor, great, or the sea ; tor, rock. Saint Fillan's spring — near the head of Loch Lomond. See Mar- mion, i. 29. "Thence to St. Fillan's blessed well, Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, And the crazed brain restore." Glen Artney= "the^/d-w of the Artney," in Perthshire. Benvoirlich = '•' the great moiattain of the lakc,^^ one of the Gram- pians. Uam Var = " i\\t great den:' the highest pt. of the Braes of Doune. Menteilh = *' the flain of the Teith," between Callender and Stir- ling. Lochard = " the high loch or lake," in Perth. Loch Achray = " the lake of the level field," at the foot of Benvenue. Benvenue = " the centre mountain," between Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi. Cambus More = " the crooked water," an estate near Callender. Benledi = " the Mountain of God," in Perth ; supposed to have been associated with some heathen worship of Baal. Vennachar -— " the lake on the high field:' the most eastern of the ♦^ three mighty lakes." Brig of Turl< = " Bridge " of the Turk which connects Achray .-nd Vennachar. Trosachs = " the rough country,'' the country between Lochb K.'.trin^ end Achray, especially the woody pass. VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES. 223 Seine. See James IV, Katrine = " the lake of the catterans or kerns," Scott ; — or, " the lake of the battle," Col. Robertson — east of Ben Lomond. Ben-an = " the ////A- /'road white water. {Ane = axon =s. van or an?ie ; alb — white.) Glen Fruin = " the valley of the sheltered places." It runs into Loch Lomond. GlenL'JSS = " the high s;len,"^ runs into Lomond. Leven Glen, " The level valley,'"' between Lomond and the Clyde. Percy and the Douglas fought the battle of Otterburn in 13S8. ^ The pennon (havmg the crescent and three silver stars) was taken in a skir- mish, but Hotspur attacked the Scots to recover it. He was, however, -defeated and taken prisoner, and Douglas was slain. This is supposed to have given rise to the ballad of Chevy Chase, though most of the in- cidents are different. Chevy Chase comes from chc-jauchce, a horse raid, or more likely from chanot chase, i. e., the " hunt on the Cheviot hills," which it really was. Glenfinlas = '• the grey-white vallev." Scott states in the notes on his ■' Glenfinlas "' that it was called the Valley of the Green Woman, from the incident he celebrates in that poem. III.— The River Demon, or Kelpie, a malignant spirit of the High- land lakes and rivers. The " noontide hacr." in Gaelic, Glas-lieh, is A gigantic female figure, haunting various districts, Ben Sh'B (ben, a woman — sigh, a fair}') ~ the f-iry's wife. Sup- posed to foretell death by shrieks. 226 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Coir Uriskin ^ "the den of tlie Urisks, or wild men,'' a cleft eft the north bide of Benvenue. The Urisk resembles the Satyr in having a human body and a goat's feet. Strath Ire = a valley in the Trosachs. It contains " Teith's young waters."' Lubnaig = " the lake of small bends," at the foot of Ben Ledi. About half a mile from the south end of it is Si. Bride's CJiafel \= Bridget = strength). Balbuidder = " the town of the back lying country " in Strathirc ; the ^burial place of Rob Roy and his wife Helen. The heath is often set on fire to allow the grass to grow. Balvaig = the small river (?) ; bala, the entrance to a river— f^/^ = •bt'^. small. It is in Strathire. Strath -gartney =- the rough valley (?). Yxomganv, rough. The north ■side of Loch Katrine. IV.— Doune = the " Dun " or "■ port^' or "hill," on the Teith. Taghairm. " The foretelling.'' From/<7;-i^^/r, to foretell. It was one of the many ways of foretelling events. A person wrapped m tiie hide of a newly slain bullock was deposited near a water-fall to think over the problem during the night, and was supposed in this way to be inspired. Dennan's Row for Rowardennan, for poetic effect. Bear Maha — " the pass of the plain," east of Loch Lomond. Cambus Kenneth = "the crooked ford \y^ Sh^ headland'' (?) (From rrt-w, crooked, ken^ a head, aih^ a ford). A famous abbey on one of the links (bends) of the Forth, founded by David I,, 1147, the burial place of James III. Dunfermline = Ditn-feam-Unn = " the fort by the alder j)ool," an ancient town in Fife,' with an abbey founded by Malcolm III. It is the birthplace of Charles I., and the burial place of King Robert Bruce. Fairies The beings referred to are a variety of fairies, the Daoine SJiK or men of peace. The Highlanders believed them to be malevo- lent if interfered with in any way, as by talking of them, wearing gi-een clothes, hunting their favourite deer, injuring their trees, or prying into their secrets. They envied mortals the privileges of baptism. Their ranks were filled by'kidnapping mortals, as in the story. James FitZ-James. This was not a name assumed by James in his adventures, but is an invention of the poet lo avoid the danger of dis- covery. The real name was the " Gudeman (farmer) of Ballenguich." Many of the incidents of his reign are alluded to in the poem : the regency of Albany (Canto v.); his imprisonment by Angus (v.), and his escape to Stirling; his intimacy with France (i. and v.) and its effects chiefly seen in the troubles of his reign. He visited France in i:;^6, and niarried Magdalen, the king's daughter, and on her death, Mary of Guise. He attempted to introduce the imperialism he saw abroad, unwarned by the troubles of Albany. His mercenary troops were for this purpose, as also his favour to the " Commons," in order to counteract the power of the nobles. His border expedition has been mentioned, and in 1540 he made a similar trip to the north, takirg captive some chiefs to hold as sureties for the good behaviour of their clans. Allan — " the white river," in Peith. Empties into the Forth. Vocabulary of i^koi^Lk imames 227 Devan = " the two streams," south of the Dchil hills. Collant9(;le = Coil-an-t op^c., "the noisy u-atcr by the height" (?) \coil, noisc; an; water; ochil\ a hill). A ford where the Teith issi cs from Vennaehar. v.— Carhonie, " the hilly place." Torry, " the rocky hill." Lendrick = " the smooth ridge" (lan-rigg). Blair Drummon, "the f-lain on the /////.'' Ochtertyre = "the hilly^field." Stirling Castle An old fort. It was a royal residence in the fifteenth century. Robin Hood. A famous outlaw, the subject of many ballads, sup- posed to have lived between the times of Richard II. and Edward I,. His chief residence was Sherwood Forest. The mcst noted of his fol-- lowers were Little John (Nailor), William Scathelock. or Scarlet,, George a Green, Much, a miller's son, Friar Tuck, and Maid Marion.. One account states that his real name was Robert Fitzooth ; that he: was born at Locksley, about 1160. Tullibardine = " the bard's knoll," in Perth, an old seat of the^ Murrays. John de Brent may be founded on Tom Purdie, Scott's gillie or ser- vant, a man who had attracted Scott's attention when brought before hira for poaching, and whom he keyt in his service till the last. X/27 2/^:/. 4^ PhJrri Al^i-^ ^l^'^J^ ^<^i^<^uxJt/^, ."/C^ ^^UZo-^ //^ ix(^ i-^' ^ f ^« Vy /^i. ^ ^ ' - z'r. I ^ ?2^^ 1^.^ ^ ^ JJ}nvu^ rs7 ^ J^. ■iC= ^-J ^^. '^c^ (xJM. ^y}^ ^ J^^^^^l- = V /^ jhHt- = m. .-■'} /s^y T i^n^X^ f^ ///. // /'^i,-/^ JT /: . ' iJiy^LUV / % ■ Ka -.2^^ ^'2l-^^^^ AX/7 i^cu^iZo ZZZ ^h fuLc^yUJ -. iJx^tViJb , / I'U ^^^y^^-^^^i^-^L^ ^ xliM^^^. ■'^.AiyO^ljL. ./jij/1/4^ i^};ufcy^ '1 '^ ' ■' V L i^ P i^-Jj . Cm / ^ lEVING^S RIP VAN WINKLE; INTRODUCTIOiN, LIFE OF AUTHOR, AND NOTES. T. C. L. ARMSTKONG, M.A, LL.B, BARRISTER- AT-LAW. (Lovouto : CANADA PUBLISHING COMPANY. (LIMITED,\ 1884. Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the Year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Eighty, by the Canada Publishing Company (limited), in the Office of the Minister of A^ricnltun. INTPtODUCTIOK As Rip Van Winkle is the first American work pre- scribed for Intermediate Candidates, a few remarks on contemporary literature are subjoined. For the purpose of classification American Literature- may be most conveniently divided into four periods, viz., the Pre-Revolutionary Period, the Revolutionary Period, the Period between the War of 1812 and the Civil War,, and the present period from 1861. Pre-Revolutionary Period. Literature has been of slow growth in the United' States. The people, struggling with the difficulties of a new country and experimenting in new institutions, had not the leisure to cultivate a high class literature, and were not disposed to imitate that which they had discarded along with the religion and politics of the parent country. But as the nation originated in a revolt from the religions of Europe, what literature there was partook of a theo- logical character, in which extreme sectarianism pre- dominated. The first book printed and pubhshed in America was "The Bay Psalm Book." Among the' writers of any note in this period were Increase Mather, President of Harvard, and his son, Cotton Mather, a strict Calvinist, and a firm believer in witchcraft, on 4 iNTRODUClION. which he vVi'Ote several books. Neither father nor so possesses any literary merit. Roger Williams, an Episcopal divine who had be- come a Baptist, was a stout champion of the opposition to the iron rule of the Puritans. Jonathan Edwards, a voluminous writer, is the founder of a Calvanistic school of theology, in which he was followed by Hopkins, Emmons and D wight. Benjamin Franklin is probably the best known general writer of this period. His writings are on politi- cal, financial, social and scientific subjects, but he is best known by his " Autobiography '* and " Poor Richard's Almanac." The Revolutionary Period. The literature of the former period had been shaped by the sectarian theology consequent on the revolt from older systems. That class of writing still predominated, but the new doctrines and constitution imposed by the Revo- lution gave an impetus to political controversial writing in defence of the new institutions. The Federalist is a collection of articles published from time to time in defence of tne constitution and is yet considered a standard authority on the elementary prin- ciples of government. Among the most popular writers of this period Thomas Paine must be mentioned. He had chosen America for the field of his publications, and his " Common Sense" and "The Rights of Man" were widely read by the people. Poetry, as might be expected, was in this practical age jilm-jst neglected, or was excessively didactic or theologi- INTRODUCTION. 5 cal. The first poet to achieve anything like notoriety vvaa Philip Freneau, author of many political burlesques. John Trumbull's " McFingal," a satire, after the style of " Hudibras," had also a wide circulation. John Barlow's **Columbiad" aimed at being the first attempt at a national epic. Fiction was introduced into the literature by Charles B. Brown, who wrote three graphic but now forgotten novels, ^'Wieland," " Ormand " and "Arthur Mervyn.'* Historical writers abounded, but none of them produced anything worthy a place in literature. They were, how- ever, the laborious pioneers who prepared and preserved the materials for later writers. From 1812 to 1861. This long period began rather inauspiciously with ai theological controversy over Unitarianism, but soon a more genial ray was shed over literature by Irving and his associates ; poetry of a high class makes its appear- ance, and the period ends with the transcendental school of Emerson. Among the theological writers in this final struggle, William Ellery Channing, the cham- pion of Unitarianism, deserves mention, as evincing qualities that would have given him a high place in literature had he chosen to use them. But when the theological war began to cool down, general literature came forward to take its proper place in the forefront, and the second war with England may be selected as the initial point of a superior literature in America. Of this early period, Irving and his associates occupy the main ground. The name " Knickerbocker School " has been applied, thoqgh somewhat loosely, to this coterie, the more 6 INTRODUCTION. prominent of whom were Washington Irving. James Kirke Paulding ('* The Dutchman's Fireside "), Joseph R. Drake (" The Culprit Fay"), and Fitz Greene Halleck ^ " Marco Bozzaris"). These writers constitute the Romantic School of American Literature. They were connected more with the past than the present, and when not antiquarian, they were foreign, both in style and sub- ject. Like all literary pioneers, however, they did good by introducing and imitating the light and culture of a superior civilization. All these men were writers of prose, — a prose, however, as with Irving, not far removed from poetry ; poetry itself was still wanting or only found in fugitive pieces. Rut the lyric era, which usually precedes a poetic age, was not altogether absent. Many of the popular songs of the present day belong to this time, e.g., "The Star Spangled Banner" (F. S. Key), '^The Old Oaken Bucket" (S. Wood worth), "Home, Sweet Home," (J. H. Payne), " Old Grimes is Dead " (A. G. Greene), " I would not live alway " (W. A. Muh- lenburg), etc. Everything betokened the approach of a great literary period ; already its pioneer had appeared in the person of William Cullen Bryant, whose long career forms a con- necting link between its earlier and later days. He published an edition of poems as early as 1809, but he first showed himself to be a great poet, America's first, when his " Thanatopsis " appeared in 1817. Following him closely we have writers in every branch of literature, many of whom extend down to the present. We can here merely allude to their names. In poetry, Henry W. Longfellow stands forth as the greatest Anierican poet, and is worthy a place among rh^ INTRODUCTtOxN. 7 best English bards. John G. Whittier, Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, Edgar Allen Poe and Jones Very, are only the most prominent of a long list. History takes a prominent place under Hildreth, Ban- croft, Prescott, Motley, and Parkman. Fiction rose to the front rank under Cooper, Haw- thorne, Mrs. Stowe and others. In Science : Kent and Wheaton, in law ; Webster and Worcester, in language ; Whitney and Bancroft in eth- nology and philology, are authorities. Almost every branch of literature was cultivated with success. The period since the Civil War is a continuation of this impulse, periodical literature and the humorous coming to the front along with fiction. But its writers and fea- tures are too well known to need any remarks, which would, moreover, be beyond the scope of this sketch, IIFE AND WORKS OF IRVING. Washington Irving was born at New York, on April 3rd, 1783, and his boyhood was spent in that city, where his father had been a merchant before the Revolution. When sixteen years old, Irving entered a law office and pro^ ceeded through the ordinary course of students-at-law, being ultimately called to the bar. But he never practised his profession. Like many other literary men who enter law, only to abandon it with disgust, Irving found himself constitutionally unfitted for its drudgery^ and unable to devote his thoughts to the petty and often ignoble details necessarily associated with it. From the musty cases and crudities of Blackstone, he was only too glad to escape to the more pleasing field of literature, and found more congenial companions in his favourite authors, Sterne, Addison, Goldsmith and John- son. His early familiarity with these authors laid the foundation of the simple, graceful style that lends such a charm to his books. He began his literary career in 1802, by a series of hu- morous sketches, called the " Old Style Papers," which he contributed, as Jonathan Oldstyle, to the Mornitig Chronicle^ a journal conducted by his brother, Dr. Peter Irving. An attack of pulmonary disease, however, soon after (1804), compelled him to seek restoration in trayel, and he went to Europe, where he remained till 1807, lo LIFE AND WORKS OF IRVING. On his return to America, he joined Jno. K. Paulding and Wm. Irving in editing a periodical to which he con- tributed his humorous " Salmagundi, or the Whim Whams and Opinions of Launcelot Langstaff." The paper was to be the Avierican Spectator^ but was soon abandoned. In 1809, he published the '' History of New York," under the nom de phime of Diedrich Knicker- bocker. This work, in sketching which he was aided by Peter Irving, was the first to make him famous and re, mains his most original production. It is a burlesque? written in quaint humour, of a pretentious history of New York, by one Dr. Samuel Mitchell, and is full of good- natured satire on the private and public life of the old Dutch settlers. For the next few years he did comparatively little. He was, however, " in his own way," devoting himself to liter- ature, and in 181 3 he assumed the editorship of the Analectic Magazine of Philadelphia, owned by Moses Thomas, a position he gladly abandoned after two years, to escape the worry of the periodical labour it exacted from him. In 1 815, shortly after the close of the war, he again went to Europe, where he remained for the next seven- teen years associating with the leading literary lights of the age. As the first American writer of European noto- riety, he was warmly received and lionized by the highest literary circles, and during this long residence abroadi lived more or less intimately with Campbell, Moore, Rogers, Scott, Jeffrey and Payne. It was not, however, till I Si 8 that he resolved to devote himself seriously to literature. In that year a commercial enterprise in which he had embarked as a silent partner^ with his brothers in LIFE AND WORKS OF IRVING. ii New York failed, and he was reduced to the necessity of writing for a living. His Sketch Book was the first pro- duct of his new career. Although written in England, he published it first in parts in America, under his pseudonym of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. He now determined to re- produce it in England, and offered it to the well-known publisher, John Murray, but that Grand Mogul of the book trade declined to assume the risk. Irving then of- fered it to Constable, and wrote to Sir Walter Scott for a recommendation to that publisher. But fearing a refusal, he, without waiting an answer, had it published by John Miller, at his own risk. Success was just beginning to crown his efforts when the failure of Miller put a sudden stop to the venture. From this difficulty Irving was extricated by Scott, who induced Murray to complete the publication, and to give the author £iQO for the privilege. The book proved such a success that Murray afterwards doubled this sum voluntarily. Everybody read and ad- mired the sketches of the clever American, who became more sought after than ever. For the next few years Irving lived on the Continent, either travelling or seeking seclusion in Paris. While living in Paris he met Tom Moore for the first time, who was living . there to avoid his creditors. He also met John Howard Payne, the tragedian, and author of the song *' Home, Sweet Home," which occurs in his opera '' Clari, or the Maid of Milan." In 1822, Irving published " Bracebridge Hall, or the Humourists," a book somewhat resembling the Sketch Book, but entirely English in the subject and humour. '' Tales of a Traveller," appeared two years later ; and in the same year (1821), he prepared " Charles II.," a dra- 12 LIFE AND WORKS OF IRVING. matic piece adapted from a French work. Payne put this play on the boards under his own name, and it met with considerable success. Irving next removed to Spain, accompanying Everett, the American Ambassador, to translate at the instance of Mr. O. Rich, the former consul, certain manuscripts re- lating to the life of Columbus. As the result of this resi- dence in Spain, we have the author's chief works on Spanish subjects. The '' Life of Columbus " (1828); " The Conquest of Grenada " (1829); " Lives of the Companions of Columbus" (1830) and "Alhambra" (1832). The last mentioned work, partly written in that ancient palace, is a collection of entertaining sketches of Spanish life. This *' beautiful Spanish Sketch Book" as Prescott calls it, was hailed as ''among the most finished and elegant gpecimens of style to be found in the language." In 1829, whije living in the Alhambra, he received the position of Secretary of Legation at London, which he held for three years. In 1830 the University of Oxford, conferred on him the honorary degree of LL.D., and shortly afterwards he was made the recipient of one of two medals annually awarded by the Royal Society of Literature, the other being given to Hallam, the historian^ In 1832 he returned to America, where he was received with enthusiasm by his fellow-citizens. Here he remained for the next ten years, residing for the most part at his favourite "roost" Sunnyside, a bachelor's hall, which he had built for himself on the Hudson in the midst of the very district he had made so famous. It was the realization of the stronghold of Baltus van Tassel, in the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and of his own fancy to retire there to spend the remnant of his life. From this spot h^ LIFK AND WORKS OF IRVING. 13 occasionally took a trip through the country. He visited thus, among other places, the scene of Rip Van Winkle for the first time in 1833. He continued, however, his liter- ary labours, publishing in 1836 his " Crayon Miscellany," and "Astoria" in 1837. Thelatler is a narrative, prepared from papers supplied by Jno, Jacob Astor, and gives an ac- count of the founding of a colony at the mouth of the Co- lumbia River. In the same year appeared "The Adven- tures of Captain Bonneville." During 1839 he contri- buted to a new periodical, the Knickerbocker Magazine^ a series of sketches which he afterwards published under the name of '* Wolfort's Roost." He also began the " Conquest of Mexico, '^ but abandoned it, not without a pang, when he learned that Prescott was preparing a work on the same subject. Irving had long looked forward to such a work, and had collected materials for it. He con- sidered that he was thus throwing away what would have become the greatest work of his life. He had no other *' grand theme " on hand, and when he at last selected the " Life of Washington " as the subject for his greatest ef- fort, he must have felt how much better his abandoned scheme would have suited his talents. Meanwhile, Irving was not without honour in his own country. In 1 838, he was nominated for Mayor by the Tammany Hall, but, feeling his incapacity to endure the turmoil and cares of political life, he declined the honour, as he did the more tempting position of Secretary of the Navy, offered him by President Van Buren. But a third one still came to him unsolicited. This was the Ambas- sadorship to Spain, offered him in 1842, by Daniel Webster, which, after some hesitation, and not without ceilain misgivings, he decided to accept, and, conse- quently, returned to Spain, where he lived till 1846. 14 LIKE AND WORKS OF IRVING. His next works were " The Life of Goldsmith" (184S), a work that was well suited to his poetic nature ; " The Lives of Mahomet and his Successors" (1850), a work aiming less at historical accurary than at picturing the main feature of the age in its chief representatives. In 1855-9, Irving published his great work, at which he had been labouring for years, the "Life of Washington." Over this he spent the last years of his life, but it was a task for which he was not well fitted. His mind was poetical, and required a poetical subject to call forth its best efforts. The public life of Washington was political and martial, and his biographer should have been a statesman and a soldier. The work was a great success financially, but has not taken a high place as an historical biography. Irving's last days were spent in his favourite Sunnyside, in his own Sleepy Hollow, where he lived with his nieces, whom he had brought to reside with him. He was fond of the society of women and children, and loved the retire- ment of domestic life. In this retreat he " stole away from the world," and spent the remnant of a pure, noble and true life, dying on November 29th, 1859, honoured and mourned by two great nations whom he had delighted. Irving is not characteristically an American writer; he belongs rather to the larger literature of the English lan- guage. English literature, with its beauties and culture, is the common heirloom of all who use the Anglo-Saxon lan- guage. The American draws his inspiration from it as well as the Englishman. As the offspring and exponent of Anglo-Saxon civilization, its mainspring will, of course, be found in the chief centre of that civilization; and Wasli- LIFE AxND WORKS OF IRVlxNG. 15 ington Irving "went up" to London to seek the refine- ment and culture congenial to his nature as naturally as did his masters in the preceding centuries. His sensitive and romantic nature could find no charm in the rough new life which surrounded him. His native country had as yet no literature; and though he had not suftlcient ori- ginality to create a national literature, his merit consists in having brought refinement and culture to the new nation springing up in his native land. As the course of civiliza- tion has been westward, so its retrospect for inspiration has been to the wise men of the east. As a distinctive American writer, therefore, Irving dis- appointed readers by his scrupulous adherence to Euro- pean models, when people were looking for wild flowers from the virgin soil of America. A national poet reflects, as in a mirror, the characteristics of the national life. Such also is the province of a national humorist, and Irving, in his Knickerbocker's History — "The Don Quixote or Hudibras of his Country," — displayed powers of reproduc- ing a distinct national type in the Provincial Dutch burghers that would have made him a national humorist, had he so chosen. But in going to England, to drink at the fountain head, he lost his originality, and followed the well-beaten path of European literature. "England in- creased his fastidiousness, and he became a refined writer, but by no means a robust one." His style is the perfection of art which conceals all art. His narrative is simple, easy and graceful. His diction is always pure, and his thoughts always refined ; his pathos, though not deep, is always true and natural. His laugh is never one of exultation, like that of Swift, Voltaire or Junius ; it is of a more genial and kindly nature— the in- i6 LIP^E Ax^D WURKb OF iRViNG. nocent raillery and harmless jests of the humorist. His chief object in writing was to entertain, not to reform or instruct; but though he had no deep moral in his writings, his humorous sketches had generally, as he himself ad- mitted, a grave object in view — the jocular often enabling him to betray tender feeling without becoming maudlin. He was a keen observer of nature, as is well shown by his picturesque descriptions of scenery and his graphic sketches of character. In his historical works we find the same qualities of style. Everywhere we have picturesqueness, graphic por- traits, easy narrative and faultless execution. But his mind was imaginative rather than critical ; he was a poet and required a poetic or romantic subject. Hence his biographies of poets are delightful, and those of the heroes of olden times are rather picturesque representations of the age than strictly historical. Throughout his writings we see the large-hearted and cultured man in full sympathy with the human heart. In the words of Bryant, " It was the instinct of his mind to attach itself to the consideration of the good and the beautiful, and to turn away from the sight of what was evil, misshapen and hateful. He looked for virtue, love and truth among men, and thanked God that he found them in such large measure." Though he never wrote as if he had a mission to per- form, yet he was, perhaps unknown to himself or his con- temporaries, the apostle of a noble life of ease and refme- ment who censured the wearing restlessness of the new world, and pointed the way to " sweetness and light," a lesson that has hitherto not sunk into the heart of the people. LIFE AND WORKS OF IRVING. 17 Rip Van Winkle is probably the best known and cer- tainly the most popular of Irving's productions. Along with the " History of New York," to which it is incidental, it has created the well-known Dutch character of the stage and comic literature, and Rip himself has passed into a proverb to live forever as the representative of the man who is notoriously behind the times. The story is not American in its main incidents, but is an adaptation to American characters and surroundings of an old European legendary form of a very old Asiatic sun-myth. Irving was a disciple of the romantic school of English literature, then just passing away. He delight- ed to pore over old legends and ballads detailing the wonders of the romantic past. It was a happy expedient when he thought of framing the Dutch burgher of New York, in one of these old legends. The burgher he had already made famous, and the incidents of the legend were sure to be popular, since they had lived in the hearts of the people from the remote past, and were almost a part of their consciousness. To these he added the wonderful change wrought by the Revolution, throwing into contrast the sleepy contented Dutch pro- vincial with the bustling electioneering Yankee who had supplanted him. The result was Rip Van Winkle. The main features of the legend of Barbarossa form the ground- work of the sketch, but they are subordinate in interest to the other characteristics by which the author has made his story entertaining. The charm of the sketch is to be found in the humorous delineation of Rip's character, his domestic troubles, which we laugh at rather than pity, his bewilderment on his return to his metamorphosed village, t he picture of the Dutch village, the amusing i8 LIFE AND WORKS OF IRVING. characteristics of the members of the " perpetual club," and the violent contrast between the old and the new life in the village which has been remodelled by the " Union," Yankee. The story throughout is told in a charming nar- rative style, natural, sample, easy and picturesque. The harmony of scene and incident is maintained by attribut- ing some magical power to the Katskill mountains, and by a few pictures of wild mountain scenery, Thoughout the story there runs a vein of rich humour and quiet satire, the effect being heightened by an air of mock seri- ousness, and by the pretended historical accuracy claimed for it in the introduction and the appended notes. The following extracts show the criticism Irving called forth :— 1. ''His stories of Rip Van Winkle and Sleepy Hollow, are perhaps the finest pieces of original fictitious writing that this country has produced, next to the works of Scott." Chambers' Cyclopcedia of English Literature. 2. " The Sketch Book is a timid, beautiful work. There is some childish pathos — some rich, bold, pure poetry, — some wit and a world of humour, so happy, so natural, and so unlike that of any other man, tliat we would rather have been the author of it than any other he has written. Irving has no passion ; he fails entirely in pathos. He cannot speak as if he were carried away by anything. He is always thoughtful, and, save when he tries to be fine or sentimental, always natural. The dusty splendors of Westminster Abbey, the skip staggcrino on the billows, the shark darting like a spectre through the blue waters. All these are poetry ; such poetry as never was and never will be surpassed — epithets of power which LIFE AND WORKS OF IRVING. 19 no mere prose writer would have dared to use." — John M\eal, ill Blackwood' s Magazine, 1825. 3. " Irving's works are anachronisms — Not only is his language taken from Addison, Goldsmith, Sterne and Mac- kenzie, but his thoughts and sentiments are taken on the rebound, and want both freshness and probability. In- stead of looking around to see what we are, he describes us as we were at second hand." — Hazlitth Spirit of th^ Age. 4. " Few, very few can show a long succession of vol- umes so pure, so graceful and so varied as Mr. Irving." ■ Mary Russell Mitjord. 5, ' ' To a true poet heart add the fun of Dick Steele, Throw in all of Addison, minus the chill, With the whole of that partnership, stock and goodwill. Mix well, and while turning him o'er as a spell. The fine old English gentleman. Simmer it well, Sweeten just to your own liking, then strain That only the finest and clearest remain. Let it stand out of doors till a soul it receives From the warm lazy sun loitering down through the leaves, And you'll find a choice nature not wholly deserving, v\ name either English or Yankee — just Irving." — Loic'cU. RIP VAN WINKLE. r. [The following tale was found among the papers of the {a) late Diedrich Knickerbocker, an old {b) gentleman of New York, who was very curious in the {c) Dutch his- tory of the province, and the manners of the descendants from its {d) primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, did not lie so much among books as among men ; for the former are lamentably scanty on his favour- ite topics, whereas he found the old burghers, and still more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invalu- able to true history. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a {e) genuine Dutch family, snugly shut up in its low-roofed farmhouse, under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as a little clasped volume of (/) black let- ter, and studied it with the zeal of a book-worm. 2. The result of all these researches was a history of the province during the reign of the {a) Dutch governors, which he published some years {b) since. There have been various opinions as to the literary character of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is {c) not a whit better than it should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed was a little questioned on its first appear- ance, but has since been completely established ; and it is now admitted into all historical collections as a book of* unquestionable authority. 3. The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work, and now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his {a) memory to say, that his time might have been much better employed in weightier la- RIP VAN WINKLE. 21 hours. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own way ; and thouj^h it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of his neighbours, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the truest deference and afifection ; yet his errors and follies are remembered " more in sorrow than in anger," and it begins to be sus- pected that he never intended to injure or offend. But, however, his memory may be (d) appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many folk whose good opinion is well worth having, particularly by certain (c) biscuit- bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their new-year cakes, and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost equal to the being stamped on a {ci) Waterloo medal or a Queen Anne's farthing.] RIP VAN WINKLE : A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICK KNICKER- BOCKER. By {a) Woden, God of Saxons, From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday. Truth is a thing that ever I will keep Unto {l>) thylke day in which I can creep into My sepulchre Cartwright. (c). I. Whoever has made a voyage up the (d) Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dis- membered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding coun- try. Every change of season, every change of weather. 25 RIP VAN WINKLE. indeed, evciy hour of the day, produces some change In the (ourhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. Note.— The foregoing tale, one would suspect, had been suggested to ilr, Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the Emperor Fre- derick der iZo^/iftarf, and the Kypphauser mountain ; the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to the tale, shows that it ig an absolute fact, narrated with h's usual fidelity :— " The storj' of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many, but never- theless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity of our old Dutch set- tlements to have been very subject to marvellous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many stranger stories than this in the villages along the Hudson, all of which were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt, I have even talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, who, when I last saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational and consistent on every other point, that I think no conscientious person could refuse to take this into the ba'-gain ; nay, I have seen a certificate on the subject, taken before a county justice, and signed with a cross, in the justice's own hand- writing. The story, therefore. Is beyond the possibility of doubt. D. K." Postscript.— The following are travelling notes from a memorandum- book of Mr. Knickerbocker :— ••The Kaatsberg3, or Catskill Mountains have always been a region full of fable. The Indians considered them the abode of spirits, who influenced the weather spreading sunshine or clouds over the landscape, and sending good or bad hunt'ng seasons. They were ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be their mother. She dwelt on the highest peak of the Catskills, and bad charge of the doors of day and night, to open and shut them at the proper hour. She hung up the new moons iu the skiss, and cut up the old ones into star^. In f.mes of drought, if properly propriated, she would spin RIP VAN WINKLE. 43 light summer clouds out of the cobwebs and morning dews, and send them off from the crest of the mountain, flake after flake, like flakes of carded c tton, to float in the air, until dissolved by the heat of the sun, they would fall in gentle showers, causing the grass to spring, the fru'ts to ripen, and the corn to grow an inch an hour. If displea'-ed, however, she would brew up clouds black as ink , sitting in the midst of them like a bottle-bel- lied spider in the midst of its web ; and when these clouds broke, wo betide the valleys ! " In old times, say the Indian traditions, there wa? a kind of Manitou or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses of the Catskill Mountains, and took a mischievous plea^^ure in wreaking all kiuds of evils and vexations upon the red men. Sometimes he would assume the form of a bear, a panther, or a deer, lead the bewildered hunter a weary chase through tangled forests and among ragged rocks, and then spring off with a loud ho ! ho ! leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling precip'ce or raging torrent. "The favourite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a great rock or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and, from the flowering vines which clamber about it, and the wild flowers which abound in its neighbourhood, is known by the name of the Garden Rock. Near the foot of it is a small lake, the haunt of the solitary bittern, with waiter-snakea basking in the sun on the leaves of the pond-lilies which lie on the surface. This place was held in great awe by the Indians, insomuch that the boldest hunter would not pur.sue his game within its precincts. Once upon a time, however, a hunter who had lost his way penetrated to the Garden Rock, where he beheld a number of gourds placed in the crotches of trees. One of these he seized and made off with, but in the hun-y of his retreat he let it fall among the rocks, when a great stream gushed forth, which washed h m away and swept him down precipices, uhere he was dashed to pieces, and the stream made its way to the Hudson, and continues to flow to the present day, being the identical stream known by the name of the Kaaters- kiU." NOTES As the tale has for its central figure one of the Dutch burg- hers, whom the Author had made famous under his assumed name of Diedrich (Deed-rik) Knickerbocker, it is appropriately attributed in this introduction to that devoted antiquary. There is a vein of humour and quiet satire running through it, in which the author professes to treat seriously the legends collected by old Diedrich, in whose eccentricities he excuses himself for the of- fence given to many by the " History of New York ; " and has a quiet laugh at those who take as serious such legends of the burghers and their wives. 1. (a). Previously to publishing his *' History of New York," Irving, to arouse curiosity, advertised anonymously for the lost Diedrich Knickerbocker, an old man who had disappeared from his hotel. This was followed shortly after by a card from his supposed landlord, announcing the old man's death, and the land- lord's intention to publish his MSS. to j^ay his board bill. In thus attributing the History and thi-i tale to Diedrich, and in in- sisting on its accuracy, the author avails himself of the humour of the mock-heroic. The deception is intenti(nally transparent, and is quite distinct from, though probably written in imitation of those literary forgeries of Bishop Percy, Chatterton and Ire- land in the latter jjart of last century. (h) This word is a curious instance of the forms assumed by the language during the struggle between the English and French tongue^ for supremacy when each language was used to translate the other. These mutual translations gave us many such phrases as " ways and means," "humble and lowly." Occasionally the phrase was condensed into a compound, as in " butt-end." Gen- tleman is a modification of these compounds, being composed of the first half of the French word gcrdilhomme and the translation of the second half homme, man. ((•) A Dutchman is a native of Holland, and is so used here. This is its English use too, but the term is generally applied to any German (Deutscher). This was formerly the case in England, too, but " Hollander " was used for what is now called a Dutch- man. {(1) The Dutch under Hendrick Hudson, were the first to ex- plore the coast around New York. They claimed the countrj' and colonized it, but it was ceded to the English in 1644. (e) Derive " genuine," "authority," and " Sycamore." (/) Black letter is the name given to old English type. Old books of legends ijrinted in this type are much prized by anti- i6 NOTES. quarian scholars, whose readiness to believe in their historical ac. curacy is here satirized by the author. 2. (a) Wouter van Zwiller, Peter Kieft and Peter Stuyvesant. (6) Like the French il y a there was probably some such phrase as "it is " elided before '' since " in this sense. The word means " after that time " (sith than, after that). Time forward to the present is " since ; " time backward from the present is " ago." (c) Derive this phrase and show its redundancy. Point out and explain the litotes in the sentence. Note the author's self-de- preciation. It is used here humorously, but it is an exfjedient frequently made use of by authors to please the reader by an as- sumi)tiou of modesty. 3. (a) The humour of this is seen when we remember that it is the ambition of every writer to live in the esteem of future ages. (b) Derive this word and show its various meanings. (c) Note the humour in claiming the esteem of these "folk" instead of that of critics. Their esteem, however, is shown by using him as waste paper in which to wrap their cakes. (d) The tale was written in England and hence the comparison to articles useless, but much sought after there. THE TALE. Many legends of long supernatural sleep follow down the path of history from very early ages. Though they now form part of our imaginative literature and nursery tales they once had a more important place in human thought, originating, as they no doubt did, in the early nature worship of the world and typifying the sleep of nature during winter, the rest of the sun at night and the future rest of the soul after death in the happy future life. In these old myths the sun, moon, earth, sky, air and clouds were personified, and woven into a sacred allegory. From pure ab- stractions these personifications gradually became materialized, and appeared as myths and legends of the various deities and heroes of antiquity. The myths of the future home of the soul, assumed a threefold form correspoading to the three locations allotted to it, viz., beyond the sea, under the eaith, or above the sky. The first may be represented by Baldur, the gentle god, the favourite of all the gods, who departs from his bale-fire in his ship Urin'jhorn, to return after a time and make all nature re- joice. The second is typified by Hades of the Greeks, or Hel of the Northmen, the place of the soul after death, located under the earth. The third class located heaven above the sky, and when bodies weie burned the soul was wafted aloft ; it "wand to wolcun." From these three forms of the myths, we have three varieties of legends. As instances of the first variety, we may mention the German Lohingrin, in which the knight sails oflf to find the Holy Grail, and returns, drawn in a boat by a swan, and the departure of Kin,^ Arthur. The second variety of legends, took the form of long charmed sleep underneath the ground, or later in enchanted NOTES. 47 castles, £?arc!ens, etc. Of this variety are those of Kaiser Karl, in Unterberg, Frederick Barbarossa, unfler Kabenspurg (Raveas Hill), King Arthur and the knights of his round table, the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus,'and many others found in the folklore of northern Europe. The third variety appears in the burning thorn, called the Sleep Thorn, since it produced the lor^g sleep. One legend of this class represents Odin, the g-id who collects the dead as pricking the beautiful Brynhilde, with this fatal thorn, and gracious Sigard as coining to waken her from the long sleep into which she had been thrown by it. Rip Van Winkle is founded on the legend of Barbarossa, which runs that the P^mperor Frederick I. had not died, but was sleep- ing with his attendants in a caatle under Rabenspurg, awaiting the day when he shall return to restore the greatness of the Ger- man empire, after it has decayed. The sacret passage leading to his resting i^lace was, it is said, accidentally discovered, on one occasion by a peasant, who followed it till he discovered the secret castle and its occupants. The old king awakening at that mo- ment, asked him if the ravens still flew over the hill. On being told they did, he said, " Then I must sleep for another hundred years." The peasant, on returning above ground, found that he had been absent twenty years. In the present tale, the author has popularized this legend still further, transporting it to a new country, with new heroes and incidents. He has been very happy in the selection of a name for it— a matter of not little importance in humorous literature. The story has been dramatized, and enjoys great popularity from the opportunity it affords of exhibiting the oddities of the typical stage Dutchman. The simple good-natured Rip, is also a cha- racter that has often appeared in literature, and the kindly laugh at his eccentricities, has delighted us in many authors. Thu:^, we may see him in " Don Quixote," of Cervantes, " Sir Roger de Coverley," of Addison, " Uncle Toby," of Sterne, " Tam o'Shan- ter," of Burns, " The Vagrant," of Goldsmith, and fin Pickwick. It is characteristic of the learned old Diedrich, to imitate the many literarj' men, who prefix a quotation as a text or motto to their productions, but this is a favourite expedient of Irving's. It should be illustrative of the main feature which is here humour- ously supposed to be truth. (a) Woden is the Saxon form of the Northern god Odin, the wind god. He was the Hermes or psychoiiomp, who collected and conducted the dead to Hel, or the abode of souls. In storms he is heard rushing to some battle-field to gather up his dead. He is a ijersonification of the air or wind, of which the soul also was Bui^posed to consist — psj'che, soul, ghost, geist, each meaning air or breath. Fx*igg or Friga, his wife was the earth. It is to be noted that our names of the months are Latin, while those of the week are Saxon, and all derived from Saxon deities. Sunday and Monday from the sun and moon, Avhich were once worshipj^ed ; Tuesday from Tui or Tew, who was the same as Jupiter, and Zeus of the classics, and Dyaus of Sanskrit, where it meant both God and the sky; Thursday from Thor, the Thunderer, the great God 48 NOTES. of the Saxons ; Friday from Fnga ;""and Saturday from Seatur, the same as the Roman Saturn, the sower. We have thus in these names, a remnant of the old polytheism, originating from nature worship. (b) Thilke is from " the lie (like.) " Another form of it is yet used in " that ilk." (c) Wm. Cartwright 1611-1643. Took holy orders 1638, and became " the most florid and seraphic preacher in the University (Oxford)." Author of " The Royal Slave," and other poems and several comedies. He was very much admired by his contempo- raries as " the utmost man can come to." id) The natural beauties of this river have had an additional charm thrown around them by the writings of Irving. As Scott did to the hills and glens of his country, so Irving has made the Hudson forever famous by elevating it to a place in literature. Its banks form one of the few classic si^ots in America. (e) Like the story, this old word too came from the far east. Derive it. {/) This phrase as used here is retained from old ballad litera- ture where " good" meant pleasing and " \Wves," women. {g) This word is probably derived from the Dutch painters, hence scape ^shape) instead of ship, the usual form. It formerly had a wider meaning and sometimes a metaphorical one as in " that landscape of iniquity (the Protector)." 2. The aiithor now turns from the " fairy mountains " to the village. The student should observe how carefully he propor- tions the prominence given to each portion of his theme, and also that each paragraph is short and confined to one subject, or a single picture. He shows his artistic skill, not only in this, but was careful about the punctuation, complaining on one occa- sion, that the compositor had punctuated too highly ; adding that too many stops interfere with the easy flow of the narrative. [a] This is the characteristic .statement of old Diedrich. Irving in the legend of Sleepy Hollow humorously calls " thirty years since " a remote period in American history. (b) This pious ejaculation shows the veneration the old chroni- cler is supposed to entertain towards the old Dutch governors. Observe the picturesque description of the village, the order being from general to particulars. 3. (a) The emphatic use of "same," "very" and "precise truth," emphasize the iiretended accuracy of Diedrich. (b) These words, like the word silly, have suffered from the struggle between the world and the church. Silly, once blessed (selig), has sadly fallen away, so simple means straightforward, but as applied t^) persons it means foolish. Good nature had for- merly an important place in church polemics and denoted a inerely moral quality with which a man may be born, but which is not sufficient without the goodness that comes by grace. The word has suffered accordingly. (c) In Delaware. It was captured by the Dutch from th« Swedes. An anmsing account of the siege may be found in the '•History." NOTES. 49 {d) Both this word and husband are derived from the word "bauen," to cultivate, the former from the noun, (bauer, boor), Rnd the latter from the infinitive with a strengthening d. {e) This use of such, ^v^thout any complement is slightly collo- rniial. Its use to qualify the word universal is worth noting. Note also the aiithor's opinion of popularity, shown by the quali- ties mentioned as gaining it. (/) Applied now only to female scolds, b\it formerly applied to either sex, meaning: a wicked person ; shrewdness was once wickedness, as in " Flee shrewdnesse " but being associated with cunning, it has assumed the meaning of wisdom. (g) Mrs. Caudle's lectures were always delivered after retiring to bed. The i^hrase reminds us that beds were formerly inclosed by curtains. "Lecture" as once used, meant reading, as in "After the lecture of the law and the prophets."— Core?-rfa?e's Bible." {h) This word was once applied to either sex. It originally meant the supposed false god of the Mahommedans. Note the humorous chain of reasoning by which the author proves Kip to be thrice blessed. 4. (a) There is a slight irony in this periphrasis, as the blame of the "good wives" was not free from ill-will. Amiable now means moral loveliness, but formerly it meant lovely in a wider sense, as, " How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts." (fc) From " God" and " sib," a relative. Originally and still in England, used to indicate a godfather and a godmother acting as sponsors in baptism. As they were generally intimate and fami- liar with each other, the term is now confined to those qualities. (c) This word is used only when coupled with disapprobation. It is a remnant of an old custom of attributing divine honours and qualities to superiors which was the origin of many of our titles of respect or courtesy, some of which have sunk into terms of reproach, as, dame, sirrah, mistress, etc. (rf) Witches were formerly people of either sex who were ac- quainted (witan, to know) with the dark things of the future. In the mediaeval ages, however, they became confounded mth the beings in many of the old myths and legends of nature worship, more especially with the Valkyriur, or swan maidens (clouds) who were the comj)anions of Odin, the god of the wind. From this arose the stories of witches flying on broomsticks, sitting on the moon, raising storms, and disappearing in clouds. When witches were confined to the female sex, the word " wizard " was coined to denote the male sex. (e) Prowling like a dog, its literal meaning. 5. Note the correctness of the author's observation of human nature in making Rip fond of sports ; such lazy fellows usually are so. Even boys are found with these contradictory traits ! Rip sought pleasure in his own way, and had no idea of sacrific- ing the i^resent to the future ; he rather " discounted " the future for the present. He had no trace of the so called, " inherited in- stinct for accumulation " and is in this respect a perfeco counter- 50 NOTES. foil to the " live Yankee " in his mad race for the *' Almighty dollar," to use one of Irving's own phrases. 6. "The poor workman quarrels with his tools'' is the pro- verbial answer to the formidable indictment of Rip Had he taken Dame Winkle's advice he might have learned that " The Lord helps those that help themselves." 7. (a) Imitated from the Bible. (b) Habits were originally clothes, and this former meaning may have suggested the condensed form of expression. We do not inherit habits as we do clothes. This double use of a word with diffei-ent phrases, is a form of the "condensed sentence " often used for effect. (c) From the Italian Grechesso, Greek (?) They were a kind of wide trousers worn in the seventeenth century. {d) Ado, or " at do " is an old Scandinavian infinitive ; instead of at, we use the Saxon form " to " as the preposition for the in- finitive. 8. {a) Expand the metaphors in this paragraph. (b) Paraphrase this metonymy. (c) Is this word in its usual sense? Point out the humour. (d) This is a play on the word " side " constituting the figure of paronomasia, or pun, a variety of the epigram. 9. (a) What form of humour is this ? (b) An instance of anaccenosis, or appeal to common opinion. (r) A happy phrase, — a good instance of the curiosa felicitas. Such condensed phrases are more fi-equent in jioetry than in prose. See second critical extract. 10. This paragraph and the following give an amusing account of the old Dutch inn and its *' philosophical " frequenters. With the exception of Nicholas Vedder, who represents the phlegmatic Dutch character, the picture is an imitation of Goldsmith's vil- lage inn in the " Deserted Village." (a) Note the double turn of humour in including sages and Ijhilosophers among the idle and also in applying the imposing word " personages " to the villagers. (b) Note the humorous irony here, and remember Goldsmith's : ** Where village statesmen talked with looks profound, And news much older than their ale went round." {c) Cf. " While words of learned length and thundering sound. Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around." — Goldsmith. 11. (a) Junto is the Spanish form of the Latin junctus and re- tains its foreign form. (6) Note the satire. The whole sketch is verj'^ humorous. 12. (a) Parai)hrase this unusual i^hrase. {b) An intensive word from vir, a man. 1.3. (a) Observe that Kip sought to avoid labour, as well as the tongue of his wife. NOTES. 51 (ft) This is the first instance of direct quotation in the Tale, and is the only one in whicli the author makea any attempt to imitatu the dialect of his character, and here he does it only by using the second singular, which is used in German to injferiors and among intimate friends. (c) Paraphrase this clause. 14. This pleasing paragraph gives a delightful picture of a mountain view, and reminds us of similar scenes in the " Lady of the Lake." It is drawn from imagination, as the author had then never visited the locality. 15. In contrast with the placid picture of the last paragraph we here have wild mountain scenery which prepares us to sym- pathize at the close with poor Eip, as he thinks of the rugged l^art of his own life. 19. The German legend now begins and we have the introduc- tion of the supernatural. (rt) The crow belongs to the legend but its presence here has a striking effect. (b) What is the antecedent of " he ? " Criticise. 17. (a) A diminutive of the Dutch juri* a smock. (b) So Ten Broeck one of the old colonists is made in the *' His- tory " to derive his name from wearing ten pairs of breeches, which in the author's ludicrous exaggeration are said to have been of such " ample volume" that they covered when spread out the whole site of the city. (c) There is an ambigiaity in this word here. Did they carry it "jointly" or "severally?" It is probably used in the latter sense for "alternately" an unusual meaning, but one justified by its derivation. (d) These are often found in the Rockies, and in the Alps, where they are called "stime avalanches." (e) What use of "yon," is this? Discuss its propriety, and also the position of " only." (/) Observe the balanced structure here, giving a dignified close to the sentence and paragraph in keeping with the solemn scene and ghastly beings. This was a favourite construction of Dr. Johnson, but is not often used by Irving. 18. (a) Quaint, from L., cognitus, or comptus, now means old and odd, but formerly it meant skilful or neat, as in Shakes- peare's "A ladder quaintly made of cords." Outlandish and un- couth (unknown) have gained their present meanings from our dislike of what is imfamiliar or from other nations. So barbarian at first, a foreigner, has assumed its ijresent meaning of savage. (6) A thick jacket used for defence, by the common soldier. (c) " Similar to " is the usual construction. The use of ''with " here is occasioned by the separation. (d) "And which" strictly requires a previous "which," as "and" connects similar constructions. Its use to connect an ad- jective phrase with an adjective clause, as here, is but a slight ir- regularity in English, and is quite correct in French. 19. As Rip was fond of frolics himself, this conduct would seem strange to him. The silence increasea our awe and is probably ?2 NOTES. iatendef] as an exaggeration of the art of Nich'^las Vedder, car- ried to such extreme that language was unnecessary. 20. (a) Substitute other words for this unusual phrase. 21. (a) This word is usually confined to the repetition of words. The author in putting Eip asleep has not followed the legend. The whole scene, however, is a great addition to the story. We might, too, draw a deep moral from the " wicked flagon " that stole from Rip twenty of the best years of his life. 22. The sudden change here is as startling to the reader, as it was to Rip. The bright morning and the birds contrast well with " the grave roysterers " of the night before. 23. (a) Showing that Rip was a keen sportsman. {h) Spelled also "roisterers" in "The Boar's Head Tavern," in the Sketch Book. Note the catachresis in " grave roysterers." (c) We say more usually j)layed a trick, or less elegantly " put up a job." 24. (a) What are the two meanings of this word ? (6) A sort of colloquial irony. This repeated allusion to Rip's terror of his dame serves to emi^hasize the contrast when he finds that he is free. (c) See the author's note at end of Tale. 25. {a) Note the alliteration running in the letters t, f and b in this senteuce. (6) Discuss the position of ''only" here. (c) The harsh cawing of the "idle crows" would be a startling reminder to the guilty mind of Rip that he was to suffer for his idleness. They are brought in with effect here, but were per- haps suggested by the ravens of the legend. (d) Starve formerly meant simply to die, like the German ster- hen. What is peculiar in the word " starvation ? " 26. Note the gradual manner in which the real length of the sleep is brought out, each circumstance exceeding the other till the final climax, and note that the reader, too, is kept in the dark. The growth of his baard is taken from the legend. 27. (a) The conduct of his old friends, children and dogs, would fill Rip with grief. (b) In Rip's days the power of witches was believed in. (c) Note the omission of words denoting the transition to indi- rect narrative. The author is merely repeating Rip's thoughts. 28. Like a culprit, he approaches his own house, with " fear and trembling." (a) Quote the original of this phrase. 2'.). (a) This neatness is characteristic of the women of Holland. 30. The violent contrast between the new and the old village, is perfectly bewildering to Rip. The circumstance is original and besides the astonishing metamorphosis it gives, it affords the author food for satire in the ugliness, narrowness and selfishness of the newly awakened life. The author makes us regret with Kip the quiet cosy past, but in Rip's improved fortune afterwards we are led to hope for better things. 31. (a) This word is used similarly in "The Boar's Head Tavern." Its use with clouds and speeches in the same construe- NOTES. 53 Lion is an instance of the "condensed sentence." Why "idlo speeches ? "- (fj) The author has evidently no sympathy with the ordinary American politician and his hypocritical cant. 32. Note that to increase the contrast the author paints in this •;tory the laziest people and idlest time of the old life along with the most restless people in the most exciting time of the new. (a) Akimbo, (on-cam, crooked). King Geo. III? 33. (o) Poor Kip was further astonished to find that what was most resi^ected by him was here hated. " Tories," is an adopted nick-name. They were formerly a species of outlaws in Ireland. Old papers speak of "Robbers, tories and woodkerns," who were disturbing the country. Refugees was the term applied to the party that opposed the revolution. Those who had fought for the i3ritish were deprived of their lands, and many of them came to Canada, where they are known as United Empire Loyalists. Their loyalty was to thtir king, not to their country. We re- spect them for having " the courage of their convictions " though we may not admire their convictions. 34. (a) Note this instance of catachresis. (b) Brom is the Dutch abbreviation for Abraham. (c) A fort on the Hudson. It was " stormed " by the Ameri- cans. (d) A headland on the Tappan Zee, an expansion of the Hudson ibove New York. (e) Militia has here somewhat of it^ old meaning of military vjenerally. It is a temporary army raistd by general conscrip- tion. 35. (a) Why " nobody ?" Would the use of "anybody " make any difference in the question ? 36. ITie accumulated wonders at last prove too much for poor Rip ; he is completely bewildered. 37. The plot having now reached the very worst, at this criti- cal moment, as in all good stories, the explanation begins by which Rip is saved from the portending mischief, and the whole mystery satisfactorily explained. 38. (a) The terrible datne at last met her master in a New Eng- land pedler, whose proverbial impudence is thus satirized by the author. " Sam Slick," is an amusing account of the Hfe and tricks of one of these gentry. 39. Derive honest and comfort, tracing the history of the meanings. Why was Riji honest here ? We now learn that Rip had really been absent twenty years. ' 40. This imitative headshaking reminds us of the similar sway held by Nicholas Vedder. Notwithstanding the mighty revolu- tion the people were as ]-rone as ever to follow leaders and take their opinions at second hand. 41 . Peter Vanderdunk, with his descent as usual is brought in and gives an explanation that is quite satisfactory, at least to the old burghers and Diedrich, to whom a supernatural cause was a sufficient generalization to e.xplam any mystery. 54 NOTES. (a) Hendrick (Henry) Hudson, whose early history is unknown, was the first to explore the river now called after him. In 1607, he undertook his tirst voyage in discovery of the North East pas- sage. In 1608 he sailed northward as far as Nova Zembla. In 1609 he sailed from Amsterdam to Davis Strait and coasted along the continent, discovering the Hudson river. In 1610, he sailed to Greenland and discovered the Hudson's Bay, that Mediter- ranean Sea of America, which cuts the continent half across. He attempted to winter on the shores of this bay, but was abandoned by his crew, and left to drift in a boat with his son and a few men. He was an Englishman, and an English expedition went in search of him, but in vain. 42. (a) "Else but" is a reduplicated expression ; else, is here redundant. 43. Rip's life is now happier than ever. He naturally sought the young ; his mind was still young in experience, and he found them idle and good listeners. 44. (a) Note the humorous satire in the fact that the vaunted benefit of being a free citizen of the United States was not to be detected by Rip, but by way of contrast he did know and rejoice that his own despotism had been removed. He could say with Goldsmith :- - " How small of all that human hearts endure, 'Ihat part which laws or kings can cause or cure." (?)) A third and true explanation has already been given when it was said to have become habitual. 45. Though the flagon has not passed into a proverb as hinted at the close, old Rip himself has, and has even the honour of having a brand of tobacco called after him. The notes add a few explanatory details gathered from the supposed legends of the Indians. The first one, while pretending to adduce proofs of the truth of the Tale, really indirectly points to its origin. t^Tu^Zi-i^ .yc-a-^x^ ^^/i-k^ ^xJ-~/6 . ima. '^OyfiAxI ^^PT^^^^t^ i^M.'i^ ^"/u.^^i^ ^ 44 / -^^cUyyj^iU^,iM^^^^id^H